Wicked Games
by Dancing star 890
Summary: She never knew of such cruelty, of such pain and torture. She had heard the stories about he and his cruel ways of life, but she never thought she'd once experience it for herself. NO SANSA/RAMSAY marriage and will be long term fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm a GOT fan but this** ** _is_** **my first fiction pertaining to the series, so please, be patient.**

 **Another thing -this will not follow the episode line and the plotline. This will be sort of a break off but it'll still be with the characters of the series, just not the episode line. And it'll still be same ol' brutal Ramsay Bolton we know we all love...**

 **Rated M for a reason too.**

* * *

The sound of the bells that signalled an imminent assault had her rushing out onto the fenced ledge that protected her from falling off to her death. She didn't need a sight glass to spot the incoming armed men that shook the ground with their march. Their booted feet created rumbles through the ground -there had to be over five thousand of them. Her small force of half of that couldn't protect her within these walls! The other three quarters were off lending their assistance to one of their allies.

They had waited for this.

Enough was enough. Callidora stormed off the ledge, snow swirling around her skirts as she did. It had snowed the previous night but that didn't seem to stop these attackers and these brutal invaders. She heard the sound of approaching boots grow nearer and she walked out into the storm. A guard spotted her immediately. "Your highness!" He called as he walked at a fast pace and she whipped her body around. "What? We don't have time to stand idle and talk. Who is invading and how far is the rest of the army away from us?"

He nodded, realising she was taking a somewhat charge of things with her brother's absences. "The rest of the men are too far out, your highness. We are incredibly depleted and we won't stand a chance against them if they breach the walls. Thousands, including the citizens, will die if that happens." He said seriously.

She sighed looking pained. "And which house dares to invade the House of Marcellus?" She asked again and he glanced down before back at her. "House of Bolton, your highness."

Callidora went pale and she nodded solemnly. "Ready the archers. We can not let those savages behind these gates and walls. If we can not defend from the outside then we'll strike them down from the inside. Now go -you have work to do." She dismissed before she headed off to the battlements, wanting to make sure for herself. It wasn't as if they had a common household shield, and it was a horrible one at that.

Flaying a man or woman or even child was not humorous in any way whatsoever.

And there it was. That horrible, nausea inducing household shield -a man flayed, upside down on an X against a background of pure black. That was enough to convince her. More than enough, in fact. She made her leave quickly, heading back into the place she called home. She wouldn't be a prisoner or even become another one of their flayed victims that no one would remember. She was Princess Callidora of House Marcellus,  
cousin to the House of Stark. She wasn't going down without a fight.

Her handmaidens rushed to her side as she walked into her chambers. "Pack some belongings of mine. If it comes down to it, we'll go to Prince Edik and seek his shelter. Big brother owes me as much anyways. Get to it." She ordered before striding from the room, her heart juddering with fear in her chest.

Surely her men would hold the walls? A deafening crash made her rush out onto a railed ledge and she watched with wide eyes as the wooden gates that kept out intruders shuddered, little pieces of wood falling off of them. The home was surrounded by her men, all of them using their bodies to create a barricade of sorts. Good, That would delay the brutes a little, giving her just enough time to flee and go retrieve more forces that would send the Bolton's back to where they came from.

Enough waiting. She decided against going back outside after seeing that and all but ran back to her chambers, throwing the doors open. "We're leaving now. Get your own and let us go to Prince Erik in the south."

Her boots were silent as she walked with her two ladies maids and a guard, the latter glancing around each corner before letting them go past it. It was terrifying -she could hear the screams of her dying soldiers from down in the courtyard and the wails of the innocent people who sought the shelter and protection they should be receiving behind their walls.

They would pay for this.

A loud crash made everyone freeze and the guard whose name she believed was Asvladr held up his hand and walked forward. He didn't get far.

Blood spurted everywhere as the blade of a sword sliced through his neck and he collapsed to the ground. Callidora took a few hasty steps back as a dozen men rounded the corner, their devilish grins making her uncomfortable. "Kill those two but not her." One pointed to her. "Lord Roose wants her alive."

Chaos ensued. She ran, her skirts flying out behind her as she ran down, heavy feet pounding down after her. She only had one dagger in her belt and that would be useless against swords. If only she could reach that lever...

And there it was -it was like a beacon of hope fixed to the wall, her salvation. She ran to it as fast as she could, skidding to a halt beside it just as the five men who'd been chasing her appeared with their swords drawn and pointed at her. "You're coming with us, princess. Lord Bolton has great plans for you." One leered.

Grasping the lever tightly in her clammy hand, Callidora clenched her jaw with an unusual anger burning fire raging inside her. "Burn in hell."

Oil spewed from the ceiling as she pulled the lever and then came the sparks from the grinding metal cogs above. Flames licked at their skin and she ran again, having gotten from them at last. Remorse and guilt plagued her as she walked down the never-ending corridors that she knew better than anything else in the world.

She threw a thick fur cloak over her shoulders before grabbing a dagger from the table. She was fortunate enough to come across some form of protection against the bitter northern winds that even having grown up with them, still got to her time after time. She slipped the other dagger into her belt, quickly fleeing the room as the shouts and screams of dying men plagued her ears. What were they doing to them out there? She daren't look.

Finding the stables was easier than it seemed, and she found a steed within seconds of looking. Not time was to be wasted with using a saddle but she grabbed the muzzle and quickly fastened it on, clipping the reigns to it with clumsy hastiness. They could come in at any moment and she would be all but defenceless. She needed to get out, to go seek help in her brothers. They could protect her.

That guard had said that the head of the Bolton household had 'plans' for her. She didn't like the sound of that. She could hear the soldiers above her through the floor, their heavy footfall giving her a cause to be nervous and or anxious even. Using the reins as leverage she pulled herself up before speeding forward, urging the beast into picking up speed with the heel of her boots.

The wind that whipped around her as she raced into the storm, leaving the carnage and chaos behind her with a relieved sickening remorse filled feeling. She knew she was being a coward for running, but her need for self preservation was larger than her need to surrender. Marcellus's did not surrender.

Snow blew into her face, and the howling of the winds did nothing to mask the alerting shouts of the soldiers as a few spotted her in the distance. Her head turned and immediately she pressed her knees into the flank of the steed -a few were coming after her, and despite her advantage of distance on them, they were gaining quickly. Their horses stormed towards her and fear grew like a sickness inside her. What were these plans that were planned out for her? Was she herself going to be flayed alive? Surely not.

That thought alone was enough to make her feel sicker than a dog.

Suddenly her horse let out a loud screeching cry of pain and crumpled to the ground, taking her with it. She let out her own sound of pain as pain burned in her side. She fell into the snow. The wet white yet powdery flakes went everywhere -her hair, on her legs underneath her fur edged skirts. She scrambled up only to be knocked back down, her eyes watering as everything went dark and those watering eyes slid shut unwillingly.


	2. Chapter 2

Callidora fumed silently as she listened to what the supposed Lord Atal who'd captured her said. She stared at Roose Bolton with hard but blank eyes. She knew he was behind her capture despite how much it would be denied by himself -sly old man. Having another man capture her with Bolton forces but claim he had no part in it, only that he 'loaned' out his forces.

He was as much of a bastard as his son for being as cunningly sly for doing that.

Speaking of whom, his son was staring at her interestedly with a sick smirk that made her want to run off and hide from sight. That look made a not too nice feeling bubble deep inside her. His eyes flickered up and down her body, travelling over her just finished developing womanly curves. At just seventeen summers old, almost eighteen, she had just finished gaining those that which all women had.

And he seemed pleased with what he saw too, much to her chagrin. The wind blew a lock of auburn hair in front of her eyes, blocking the sight if his cruel, ice cold blue ones from her sight. It was as if the God's had saved her from his vile stare.

She turned her eyes back to Roose, having drowned out the conversation he was having with this Lord Atal. She glowered at her booted feet. How dare they take her and use her to be whored off to a bastard? Legitimized or not, he was still a bastard who'd be legitimized by a bastard, so how did that make him a legitimized heir? In her eyes, it didn't.

"Your highness." And now the mastermind behind this plan was addressing her! "Why don't we get out of the cold and you can get settled in your chambers?" He suggested, waving a hand to the large glooming fortress walls of the Dreadfort. She had heard stories about this place, about how flayed men were forever on display here. She didn't want to see that, not ever.

She nodded solemnly, following them up the steps that led to the fort. Her fur lined garments swished around her ankles, the insulating supposed warmth doing nothing to soothe the chill that crept up her spine as she followed them. There was no point in escaping here...yet. She was too heavily guarded and it would be common knowledge that she would head in the direction of her brothers. She would be hunted down and brought back in an instance, and life would be much harsher than it had been previous too.

Callidora didn't like the feeling she was getting from being within these walls. They reeked of death and agonised suffering and of men that had breathed their last breath within these walls. Innocent people had died in these walls, no doubt about that.

And she would suffer too.

They came to a stop outside her chambers and she went inside silently, hearing someone shut the door behind her. Rude. She looked around the room with a forlorn look. There was a large bed against the far wall, a window facing it from the side. A small chill blew into the room and she was grateful for the dying but still there fire that burned in the fireplace. It gave off a dull warmth that she could even feel from the other side of the room, and numerous lit candles gave the dark room its light. A table and two chairs were in front of the fire, a couple of chairs against the wall and a small bookcase and some shelves beside the window. It was cosier than she would have expected.

She didn't want to be here at the Dreadfort. She didn't belong here -she belonged back at home. Would her brothers be furious? Her oldest brother -Georgion- would be foaming at the mouth. She knew she was going to be whored off to produce an heir that would have strong claims to the Northern lands, much stronger than any of the Bolton's had that was. Being blood of the true Warden of the North had its disadvantages as well as its advantages. She hated it sometimes.

* * *

Dinner was a dull affair. She ate in silence, the warmth of the broth seeping into her bones and warming her everywhere. She didn't speak once despite the fact her 'betrothed' looked at her as if daring her to speak. She didn't like him. Despite the fact that he hadn't been a lord for very long, she had heard rumours and tales about the bastard son of Lord Roose Bolton, about how cruel and what a backstabbing bastard he was. She didn't want to know him more than supposed rumours.

"Your highness, is Dreadfort to your liking?" She looked at Roose, her eyes startled. What on earth did he hope to gain from asking her that? "I don't know, my lord. I haven't seen more than the four walls of my chambers, have I?" She replied and he hummed while spooning another mouthful of food into his mouth.

"You'll have to be shown around then, won't you? Can't have you wandering off to places a woman such as yourself has no place in being. You'll be spending a fair amount of time here until we secure a way to Winterfell and then you'll move there."

That caught her attention. "Winterfell?" She echoed. Surely they couldn't take Winterfell?

The older Bolton nodded while watching her carefully. "Being blood to the Stark house, I'm sure you've been there." He commented breezily and she knew he was digging for more than just curious answers to suspicious questions.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, many a time. Those were good times." She said quietly with a smaller smile than was possible.

"Well then, surely you remember Reek then, or Theon as he was once called?"

Her mossy green eyes flickered to the man who was cowering by the bastard's side and her top lip curled down slightly. "I don't associate myself with those who murder those I love, but then again, didn't you all have a part in the Red Wedding?"

Roose gave her a look. "So, are you pleased with your chambers then?"

As she rattled off a satisfying reply, she didn't catch the smug and sly smirk of the dark haired man sitting beside her, or the cunning look in his ice cold blue eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of her bath did little to settle the unsettling feeling that bubbled in her stomach. The girl behind her was rambling on about things she would rather not know about, about bodies eaten by the dogs that she could hear in the distance. She turned her head slightly. "What did you say your name was?" She asked quietly and the hand that was cleaning her back paused. "Myranda, my lady."

She turned to look at the girl who thought she was higher and mightier than herself. "And how long have you been in love with him? You thought you would be together forever, correct?" She asked breezily.

The hand stilled and the tension in the room grew tenfold. "And I came along and ruined it, right?" She added. "I'm Callidora Marcellus of House Marcellus, cousin to the Starks of Winterfell. You don't frighten me."

She watched as a whole boatload of emotions crossed her face -anger, irritation and then fake politeness. "Are you done with your bath, my lady?" Myranda asked and Callidora turned away from her, missing the curling of the other girls lip. "I can finish on my own." She dismissed and the girl stood, storming out the room without so much as a goodbye.

Good.

It wasn't as if she had a choice in this union, and if she did, she'd refuse. She didn't want to be married to someone she barely knew, or even someone whose reputation gave off a bad vibe. Not even he being the most honourable and kindest man in all the seven kingdoms and the Northern settlements could've made her want this union, and he was _none of those things_.

* * *

Her stomach curdled as she walked though the cold to where she was to be _whored_ off to the bastard son of Roose Bolton. Her palms were clammy and her face pale -she wanted to go home! But she kept her composure and even though she wanted to sob and wail and protest, she knew that there had to be some way to use this horrible situation to her advantage. _Maybe I could ask for my brothers to be spared..._

When they came to a stop, Roose Bolton walked a few steps forward as she saw the slight triumph in his equally cold eyes. "Who comes before the old God's on this night?"

And so it began. She quoted back what she was supposed to, the words she continued to speak feeling like sludge coming from her quivering lips. It wasn't right -It didn't feel right. She half expected someone she knew from home to come crashing in on their horses, having come to rescue her from this nightmare that would never end once she finished saying what she had to.

But she kept saying her lines and her eyes grew glassy as she finished, her stomach curdling in on itself as she finished and the smug, sick smirk on his smug, sick face. He wouldn't hurt her, would he? One could only hope.

* * *

She was a little relieved she wasn't made to go to his chambers, thinking he wouldn't touch her tonight. How wrong she was. Dread filled her as he followed her into her chambers, 'Reek' having opened the door for her. Her palms grew clammy once more and she tried to quell the sickening feeling inside of her. She didn't like the dangerous feeling he was projecting once again.

As she came to a stop, having looked around her now lit chambers that were flooded with lit candles that gave off light, her mossy green and wet eyes looked to his much colder ice blue ones. He looked smugger than when they'd finished saying their wedding vows to each other. She had saw the dog masters daughter in the crowd too and this time she hadn't missed the spite filled look she had sent her way.

"Are you pleased, my lady?" That question jolted her back to reality and she nodded mutely, fiddling with the laces on the sleeves of her thick, woollen, fur collared dress. It was the only thing she could do to keep her mind at a somewhat relaxed ease. That made his sly smiled deepen. "Good. I want you to be happy."

She didn't believe that for a moment and he walked around in front of her, that arrogant smile still on his face. Despite that fact that she was only the slightest bit smaller than he, his presence intimidated her. He looked like one of his hounds circling their unfortunate prey.

"My father told me you're still a virgin."

A slight red tinted her cheeks as embarrassment flooded through her and she glanced at Reek whose head remained bowed and his eyes on the dirty stone floor. She looked back at Ramsay whose eyes were looking at her expectantly. "Yes," she whispered.

"Why? Why are you still a virgin?" He countered quickly. "No men in the city to keep you company? Afraid of them and their appendages?" He joked with a chuckle and she tried to smile but couldn't. "No." She whispered. "I am the only girl amongst seven brothers. Men were afraid to approach me and I was told to keep my maidenhood." She finished quietly.

"You're not lying to me?" Ramsay continued and she shook her head with wide frightened, mossy green eyes. She wasn't scared easily but a few minutes alone with her now husband and terror was racing through her veins. "No, my lord." She said quickly, her heartbeat thudding wildly in her ears.

He still had that same amused look in his eyes. "Lying to your husband on his wedding night," he began while looking at her. "That would be a bad way to start a marriage."

His hand came up and cupped one side of her face, the skin shaking beneath his fingers. It was as if he could _smell_ her fear, her terror and fright at the situation. "We're man and wife now. We should be honest with each other, don't you think?"

"Yes." She whispered. Callidora felt like crying but she maintained her composure. Many others before her surely had done this before, but that didn't give her comfort. He moved forward and pressed his lips to hers, that small move of tenderness and compassion and passion making her a little bit more at ease.

And then he moved back as soon as he'd done that. "Good." And just as she thought he wouldn't pressure her, his next statement made her blood run cold even in spite of the cold gale blowing outside. "Take off your clothes."

Her face went pale once more and she whipped her head around to where 'Reek' stood. The damaged man made to leave but Ramsay stopped him. "Oh no, no, no." He stopped the silent man and he did indeed stop. "You stay here Reek." She looked at Ramsay in horror before looking back to the man she'd known once upon a time and who'd even betrayed her kin and herself. She didn't want him watching this... "You watch."

She had been focussed on looking at the broken man that the man standing in front of her startled her when he spoke again. "Do I need to ask a second time? I hate asking a _second_ time."

That was enough to make her move forward and she walked forward a few steps to face the fur lined bed. The fur hadn't been there before and it made her wonder who'd put it there. Her fingers fumbled as she unlaced the ties on the sleeves of her heavy dress. The sound of the door shutting made her mouth go dry. Was this actually going to happen? She hadn't even been married for a few hours and this was happening...

"Reek," she heard from behind her. "I told you to watch." He must have been looking at the floor again and she heard the small sounds of the struggle he made as he no doubt raised his head. The nausea inside her grew tenfold. This wasn't how she had ever imagined her wedding night being. Had she angered the God's in some which way for them giving her a wedding night as frightening as this?

"You've known Callidora since she was a girl. Now watch her become a woman."

She looked around for something, someone even that could spare her this and she heard the boots moving towards her as tears pooled in her frightened green eyes. Strong hands gripped her dress and the tearing sound of the thick fabric made her flinch, her bottom lip quivering. Those hands moved to her bare and exposed back and they pushed against it, pushing her into the thick furs that lined the bottom of her bed. She gripped the furs that were underneath her, burrowing her head into them as those brutal hands moved lower and tore the garment even more, leaving her exposed to his cruel self.

Her mossy green eyes squeezed shut. It was petrifying to know he was so close behind. The clinking of his belt made a small sound of fear break though her teeth.

And then came the pain. He surged forward and the most horrible pain seared through her lower half as he showed her no mercy whatsoever. It was about as painful as she could've imagined it, the fire hurting her and as he made it worse with his movements, muffled but loud cries of pain coming from her every time he moved. Was this to be her life from now on? She didn't want to live like this, and as soon as she had a chance, she would run.


	4. Chapter 4

Flinching ever so slightly as she applied a sort of soothing balm to the ugly bruises that marred her once flawless skin. She let out a soft cry of pain as she did so, her jaw locking as she fought to keep the other cries of suffering in as she applied the slightly soothing applicant to the much newer bruises that were mottling her skin. Each night he came, and each night he left more that she tended to with a grim and brave face.

The cold draft from the snow outside did little to soothe the aches of her tired form either. She was locked away like a precious relic each day and then she would be violated under the cover of darkness. She dreaded him coming -he made it a point to walk as loudly as possible as he neared so she would be aware of his approach, and then he would deliberately fumble with the key to the room, making her grow more frightened and in a petrified state before he came in.

Everything was a game to him, and her fear of him was probably the best game he'd had in a long time. She hated being his plaything, the latest thing to amuse him in that sadistic way he sought out amusement and pleasure. Oh, how she was quickly growing to hate him. She'd rather die.

The snow outside made her long to be outside in it, but with the door of her rooms locked, how else could she get out? She would have to find a key of sorts, and she'd already searched -no key to be found. Her eyes watered as she ran her fingers over the ugly blotches of purple and black that marred her once beautifully flawless skin. It wasn't like that anymore...

Flakes of snow blew in through the window and it brought a small, now rare smile to her face. Who knew such a pure sight as white snow could be the soothing balm to her mental worries if not her bodily ones? If only her cousins could see the snow, and her brothers for that matter...

She didn't know how, but her spine prickled as the faintest sound of a creaking door made her spine stiffen. It was like an automatic reflex and she knew that sound brought nothing but pain. Her throat tightened and her eyes filled with unshed tears. It was just starting to darken outside and he usually didn't come until a thick blanket of black was all that could be seen from outside.

But it wasn't Ramsay. Callidora jolted with slight shock and she sucked in a breath as she locked eyes with the cowering man who was once as strong as his lineage demanded him to be. "Theon," she whispered, eyes swimming with unshed tears. He seemed to be repulsed by the horrible bruises that decorated her once pale flawless skin. Good. It meant she wasn't the only one in this place who thought they were wrong.

"Name not Theon," he said back as usual, looking down and refusing to meet her eyes. "Name Reek."

She felt herself breaking inside. What had Ramsay done to him to break him into a mere ghost of himself and be like this? "Theon, help me." She pleaded but he shook his head, still looking at the dirty ground. "You're his wife now -do as he wants or he'll hurt you."

"He already has." She whispered, her voice cracking pathetically. "He hurts me every night and I don't know how much more I can take."

He shook his head again. "It can be worse, it can always be worse. Please, just do what he wants."

Enough was enough. She rose from the bed, her luxurious nightgown sliding against her skin as she did. It was the most modest thing she'd been given. Her legs protested but she walked forward, her face stony and he made for the door but she got there too. "What did he do to you?!" She demanded and he uttered out a protest but a explosive anger was building inside her. She'd heard what he'd done. "You betrayed my family!" She roared.

He looked close to sobbing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"You have to help me, Theon, help me!" She cried and he shook his head. "He'll see us -you don't know him!"

Her mind ran a hundred feet a second as she thought desperately. "My family still have friends in the North. If you can get them a message they'll go to my brothers and they'll come for me!" She spotted a burned out candle and thrust in into his shaking hands. "Go find a window that faces over the water and light this and place it there! They'll go get my brothers and I'll be free from this place -you could be too! I wouldn't harm you if you helped and I would put in a word to my cousins!" She pleaded.

"Reek! My name is Reek!" He protested before trying to rush forward and she steadied him, her hands firm on his shoulders. "Your name is Theon Greyjoy," she corrected, "last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron islands. Do you hear me?"

He nodded mutely before pushing past her, leaving Callidora alone once again with her evening supper and the cold.

* * *

Ramsay didn't come to her that night and she took it with relief and caution. He was probably quenching his lust with the girl from the kennels and she counted her blessings despite how much she hated the girl who smirked when she saw the bruises marring her rivals skin. She was just as bad as Ramsay.

But her heart sank as he came during the light. It wasn't good, and she recognised the smug, sly and sadistic look in his wild blue eyes as he locked the door behind him, placing the keys on the small wooden table before taking in her shaking form that was pressed against the headboard of her bed. "I had some rather interesting information relayed to me late last night."

That didn't sound good. Her eyes watched him as he moved around the room, icy blue eyes flickering to the falling snow outside before they moved back to her shaking against the wall. "Get yourself dressed. I have something to show you, wife."

* * *

She followed the men who'd escorted her along the still unfamiliar hallways and out into the cold once again. The falling snow blew in front of her face and it was a welcome sight indeed. It was different being in the middle of the falling white flakes and seeing them out of the window. She much preferred the former.

Ramsay stood staring over the walls and she came to a stop beside him, her stomach in knots. She knew he knew she was there but he took a moment to turn and face her. He seemed to be searching for something in her blank expression, and then he smiled that broad, wide smile she didn't trust for one second. "My beautiful wife."

She swallowed nervously. He seemed to be enjoying something -her unease, perhaps? Maybe that was it. She tried not to flinch when he moved and pressed his lips to her cheek in a kiss that she didn't want. But he wasn't finished and he started speaking. "When my father first told me we were marrying, I half expected a fat, bearded beast."

Callidora remained still as his leather gloved hands came and took a firm hold of her own arms, just above the elbow. "Do you know how pleased I was when I saw you?" Ice blue eyes stared down at her, for she was slightly smaller than him. "You make me very happy."

He began walking away and for some reason, she felt compelled to follow him. There had to be an ultimate motive to her being summoned out of her chambers, wasn't there?

"We had a letter from one of your brothers yesterday. Rather demanding men, aren't they?"

She swallowed thickly, not knowing how to respond. "Which brother?" She whispered, the snow falling thick and fast in front of her. She spotted a door key laying on a barrel, and when he wasn't looking, she snatched it up desperately. Maybe escaping was more possible now...maybe...

"I do believe he was called Malakai." He replied casually and she made a sound in her throat. "He's the brother above myself and Edmund." She revealed quietly and he sent a sly look her way. "Not a bastard then?"

She shook her head with downward eyes. "No." She murmured.

"One day I'll be Lord of Winterfell when we acquire it and Warden of the North. You'll be my lady -my Wardeness." He stated and she glanced at him, a certain powerful smugness rising inside of her. "But what of your stepmother? What if she were to give your father a son? A legitimate son?"

She could see the slight clenching of his jaw, but she didn't stop. If this was how she made him feel the agony he inflicted on her each night, she'd never stop.

A fake smile appeared on his face and she saw through it to the red hot anger that laid beneath. "Then I'll have a baby brother." He replied simply but Callidora continued. "But he'll be _the heir_." She pressed and he didn't miss anything either. "I'm Lord Bolton's eldest son."

"But you're a bastard -a trueborn will always have the stronger claim."

That stopped him in his tracks and when he turned to face her, she saw the cool fury slowly but rapidly burning up in the depths of his ice cold blue eyes. "I've been naturalized by a royal decree from-" she cut him off. "Tommen Baratheon? Another bastard." She pointed out.

She saw his jaw clench properly now and he seemed to steady himself before he spoke again. "Bastards can rise high in the world -like your cousin, Jon Snow. Born the Bastard of Winterfell, and now Lord commander of the Nights watch."

Her brow furrowed a little and his arrogance returned as he saw it. "You didn't know? Yes, he's done very well for himself." And then he made a sound that had her uncomfortable. "Ah! I nearly forgot why I asked you to join me. Come, my lady."

And she wished she hadn't.

Bile rose in her stomach as she saw her once elderly maid that was to bring a message to her nailed to a post, her skin flayed and snow melting on her exposed flesh. He made a soft chuckle in his throat. "Your northern friend."

Movement caught her eye -she watched in horror as he pulled the candle that she'd given Theon from inside his cloak. "Reek told me you wanted to leave." He simply said and her eyes sought out the man who had betrayed her yet again, those mossy green eyes of hers watering pathetically. Everything Ramsay said now fell of deaf ears as she stared at the man she'd thought was her one ally in this cold, barbaric place.

"Bring my wife back to her chambers." She heard him order from beside her while tears pooled in her eyes. "It's far too cold out here for a lady."

And then he had to rub it in a little more. The loathsome man pressed his dirty lips to her cheek once more, and she heard the whispered message with a horrifying dread, a horror she felt each time the sun sank over the darkening horizon. " _I'll see you later._ "

* * *

And see her later he did.

Callidora pressed her back against the headboard, her eyes pleading. "Please don't." She whispered, tears dripping down her cheeks as the cruel, cruel man ventured forward with a sickening smirk. It made her feel sick and she tasted bile in her mouth.

"We are man and wife, aren't we?" He replied simply. Unsure of what to tell him, she simply nodded although it felt wrong. Did all men treat their wives like this? If so, what was she complaining about? Surely others had it worse than her?

She soon regretted it though for he lunged for her, his filthy hand closing around her ankle. She kicked and struggled but it was no use -he used his weight as a weapon and she couldn't struggle much. Her nails scratched his bare shoulders, the sharpness of them creating deep scratches in his cadaver pale skin.

But even that didn't stop him -if anything, it provoked him even more. She struggled, her fists beating on his chest as she kicked and writhed in his impossibly strong hold. Her fingers created deep scratches in his skin and her fists made areas of his torso throb, but it still didn't stop him and her face contorted in the most painful grimace of all grimaces as he pulled open her legs and sought which he was after.

Her mossy green eyes fell to the ceiling and tears pooled in them. Whatever had she done to anger the God's and deserve this?


	5. Chapter 5

The door key felt heavier than she thought it would in her nimble hands, but perhaps that was just the meaning behind the object adding to the weight of it. It meant everything -freedom, a life free of pain and torment, a life without vile marks and agonizing marks marring her beautiful skin... Was that the equivalent of freedom? She didn't know, but she was damned if she didn't find out if that was true.

She kept the sacred piece of metal hidden under the mattress, a place she knew Ramsay would never look. He used the bed for _raping_ her, and he wasn't the type to lower himself to making the bed after he'd made her bleed over it. She sneered at that. But there was a downside to her plan of escaping. If she were to be found, there wouldn't be another chance... She would be locked up somewhere other than this strangely beautiful room, the one place she found worth staying in inside this whole fort of death and dread. It was like the one rose that had survived the swarm of pests that threatened to eat it alive like the other flowers on the bush.

The only thing that blackened the peace of this room were the unspeakable and disgusting 'duties' she was forced to act out each night to please the man she unfortunately called her 'husband'. Sure, yes, she had agreed to become his wife, but only to spare her brothers from being slaughtered by Bolton forces and possibly flayed. She wouldn't of been able to bear that, especially not if it were Nathanial, her fierce, older twin brother.

He was the light to her darkness, her saving grace. She remembered when a bully had taken note of her, not bothered by her title and her power that she had already as a mere child. He taunted her, calling her a witch because of her beautiful red hair and enchanting green eyes.

Nathanial had beaten the bully and chased him off, pulling her into an embrace as she wept from the torment and the suffering. He was like her protector, her guardian angel as her mother had called him. They were the youngest out of the eight children, she being the proper last born but he being the bigger and more forceful out of them both. She preferred peace when violence wasn't needed; he liked to quash all thought of war before it even started. They were like the morn and the night, but as different as they were, they were oh so close.

Her skin prickled as the sound of approaching, heavy footsteps were heard by her now apparently over sensitive ears. It was strange how her heart sped erratically and her stomach knotted and her palms grew clammy as she heard him coming to her every night or almost every night -he spared her some nights, electing to quench his thirst for lust and violent excitement with the kennel masters daughter, Myranda.

And she was glad for it.

Quickly, she stashed the piece of invaluable metal under the bed and got up quickly, coming to stand in front of the window and acting as if she'd done nothing. The snow had stopped none too long ago and the little stash of the beautiful white powdery flakes that rested on the outside window ledge were just starting to melt.

Yet still, even in its melting, slushy form, it was still beautiful to her.

The creaking of the door made her inwardly flinch, yet she didn't turn around and give him the pleasure of seeing the obvious pain on her face. It was silent in the room for a few moments before the sound of the door locking shattered the silence. The sound of the keys being placed onto the small table followed, but he didn't come closer.

It was eerie.

She made the first move and turned her head ever so slightly, her green eyes looking at his ice blue ones. "What?" She said quietly and she saw the ghost of a smirk cross his face. "Looking at that which you'll never see again?"

In her mind, she pictured stabbing him with the key and then spitting on him. She imagined being free, being back with her brothers back at home- this dreadful place wasn't home. Winterfell could be classed as home but that rightfully belonged to her cousins and she knew they were going to take it too. That wasn't right.

"I asked you a question, _Callidora_." He whispered from behind her and she startled, having not heard him approach because she was so lost in her thoughts, as delightful as they were.

"Why are you so cruel? I've done nothing to you, and yet you treat me worse than the innocent people you skin for fun in the dungeons. I hear their screams and I forever wonder what on earth they did to you to deserve such an awful fate?" She turned to face him with bleak, unmoving eyes. "Did they look at you wrong? Whisper about you, about how a bastard had finally been naturalized, but by another bastard? Did they not please you? Is that what you plan for me once you have those sons you boast about getting from me? Going to cut off the bruised flesh and see what lays underneath?"

His jaw clenched briefly at the bastard comment before they glittered maliciously. "Aren't you an inquisitive little thing this evening?" He said in a mocking voice and her face hardened. "I'm not inquisitive."

That made wicked, fear instilling delight cloud his eyes and she dreaded having said those words as soon as she saw those horrifying emotions cross those ice cold blue eyes. "Oh you're not, are you? Well then, let's play a game! And remember, _not another word_! You are, after all, not inquisitive." He said with a heavy chuckle that died down into a wicked snicker.

Callidora tried to move away but his hand wound into her hair before she could manage to do so, the grip tight enough to force a wince from her throat, no matter how much she tried to supress it. She tried not to cry out as he shoved her backwards and she fell onto the bed sideways, her battered body falling across the furs. She tried to scramble away but he used himself as a restraint, using his weight to restrain her and stop her now pointless struggles.

Ramsay clicked his tongue mockingly. "We'll have none of that, wife. Now, its my turn to ask the questions." He said with mock enthusiasm and her stomach dropped. _What use of psychological torture would he use now_? She tired of them all.

"Now, tell me, do you like my hands?" He punctuated his words by sliding those disgusting hands under the hem of her nightdress. Her jaw was clenched immediately. "No," she spat back, trying to wriggle away as she did. It was bad enough his seemingly favourite part of his body was there every night or every other night, and no way was his dirty, blood stained hands going to soil her down there too.

That made the wicked amusement in his eyes grow tenfold and his hands rested against her hot flesh, her body seizing up and going ridged as his thumbs began to rub circles there, her thighs starting to quiver of their own accord as he did. Her body betrayed her. She fell limp beneath him as he continued to torture her in the worst possible way. Her eyes watered. She didn't want to feel _this_... It was bad enough she was forced to feel pain each time he made her bleed over the pelts, but this?

This was much worse.

She was brought back to the present by a low chuckle that was full of violent delight. "I thought we agreed not to lie to each other, Callidora. You certainly aren't acting like you don't like them. So, do you like my fingers then? And remember, no lying, of course."

Mossy green eyes burned with tears of humiliation. Why was he doing this? Wordlessly, she shook her head and then yelped as he pressed on a fading yellow bruise. The pain was still there but it was duller, but oh, it was still there. Her skin crawled as his fingers drifted up and down the place where she didn't want to be touched. She heard the slick sound as he invaded the place where she never wanted him to be, ever.

"Please," she whispered, eyes pleading as she whispered the begging words. It humiliated her to have to beg for something she didn't want to happen, even though her body betrayed her and a warmth was beginning to burn inside her abdomen. She didn't want to know what was on the other side of that burning blaze. "Please," she repeated.

He blinked, feigning stupidity and innocence. "Why, of course." He said with amused mockery. "What's the matter? Is there a throbbing down there? A burn that needs to be extinguished? Do tell."

Callidora ground her teeth together defiantly. "No, I won't tell. I won't give you a son, I won't give you any heirs to your cruel house whatsoever. I'll die before that happens." She hissed and she watched the smirk darken. "Oh, won't you? I'm sure that after a year or two, you'll beg to differ and you'll _beg_ me to make you with child again just so your life has more meaning than being a bed-warmer. I have other girls for that, and you'll plead me to make you different from them by the first son you've given me."

She balled her fists and hit them against his chest as he unbuckled his lower garments and shoved them off onto the floor, the belt clanking on the ground. Her legs kicked and she twisted and turned, pain filled gasps and muffled cries echoing from her as he pressed her frontwards into the fur and sheets, her struggles feeble as he forced her nightgown up, one hand gripping her hair while the other made those horrible, disgusting bruises.


	6. Chapter 6

_Callidora,_

 _We are currently amassing our armies as I sit here and write this, and Nathanial is frantic and worrying himself into a state of unwell. He's all but demanding we march on the Dreadfort the next morn, but I want to know about the defences they have keeping them safe behind the towering walls of that awful place. If you've gotten this, I want you to find out somehow in that unique way only you can, little sister of mine. Keep yourself hopeful and strong willed. We'll be seeing you soon._

It wasn't signed, but it wasn't hard to know which of the seven brothers had smuggled that to her. Georgian, the oldest of them all. She had woken up to it laid neatly on the mattress , not an edge crumpled or a single crease in the paper itself. It looked as though it had been just plucked off of the pile of parchment that was in the studying chambers back home. This place wasn't home. It would never be home.

Her breath fogged as she let out one she hadn't realised she was holding with a saddening feeling. Oh, how she wished she could hold it in forever and be rid of this place for good! But then she would be giving into him, she would be letting him claim victories over her that he had no right too. Damn him and his delusional mind games. She would never want to be with child again. She'd rather harm herself and the child before it was born so it would be spared form even catching a brief glimpse of the horror that would be its father, its sire.

It would be a fate worse than death if that innocent, pure child would lay its untouched eyes on the darker side of its parentage. She hoped never to fall with child, to be infertile, to let him go back to being satisfied with the dog girl. That was her idea of heaven, a place where she was free from this prison. Her mind sneered at that word.

She was silent when he came that night, the letter stashed away with the key that was just begging to be used. Oh, how she wished she could, but now wasn't the right time to do so. It was agonising to wait though. She just had to grit her teeth and live through the torture for a little while longer.

She didn't even acknowledge him as he came closer like every night. His disgusting hand rested on her bare shoulder, his fingers burrowing themselves into the slowly healing bruises that marked them. She didn't even flinch -she was used to it. "Just get it over with." She muttered, mossy green eyes fixed on the dirty floor. "The sooner you've gotten what you're here for, the sooner you can leave me be once again." Her voice was a mere ghostly whisper, not at all like those awful screams of pain she heard at all hours of the night.

The fingers that gripped her shoulders tightened -that caused a flinch to stab her battered limb and she shifted uneasily on the edge of the bed as it did. "I do have a question." He asked and she turned her head ever so slightly. "And what will you use from me to amuse yourself tonight? The look on my face as I withhold those wails of pain you enjoy hearing?" She clipped.

His fingers tightened again, warning her to be quiet. "I want to know the battle formations that your brothers armies use in combat."

She stiffened and turned around immediately, eyes wide and unguarded. "You want me to betray those I love and call my family?" She asked.

That loathsome, arrogant smirk appeared on his face. "You're a Bolton -that makes you a part of this family."

"And I don't love you." She spat. "You're asking me to stab those who love me in the back and no, I won't aim for the front either. I'm not like you or your deranged father. You want to know what battle techniques my brothers use? I'll make sure you know all of them when your armies are being slaughtered mercilessly by them."

Dangerous malice clouded those ice blue eyes of his. "Is that so? Have you seen a man flayed, wife of mine? Their skin peels from their flesh like _nothing_. I have a few prisoners in the dungeons below -perhaps I'll give you a demonstration in the morning. Yes, I think I will. Father isn't here and won't be for another week -he's bringing his fat bitch with him."

She raised a brow before turning around, albeit feeling a little nauseated. "You sound jealous, envious even. What's the matter?" She mocked. "I think you're paranoid about being replaced by a trueborn Bolton heir. She is young enough to give your father one, isn't she? Quite a few if I'm not mistaken. Could get a handful of sons, trueborn sons, from her, couldn't he?"

Even though she wasn't looking at him, she knew he was furious. His hands gripped her shoulders even tighter and this time she did make a sound. She struggled ever so slightly but he held on, nails digging into the skin and creating deep, painful gouges. Her eyes watered pathetically.

"But that's where you come in." He said with a smug undertone in his smooth voice. "You just have to give me an heir before the fat bitch does, don't you?" He said with a cunning slyness.

Callidora tugged herself from his grasp and adjusted the sleeves of her nightgown once she'd stood, her face stony. "And I hope you get nothing but daughters to continue your pathetic house. I promise you -I won't give you a son. I'll never give you a son. And I'll never stop laughing if you get daughters instead of sons."

She wasn't surprised with he grabbed her with enough force to break bones, those dirty fingers piercing her skin once more. But she didn't flinch, and that made him even more determined. But she didn't make a sound when he shoved her face first like he'd done on their wedding night, how he'd made the insides of her thighs painted red with the blood of her maidenhood. She went silent, her eyes watering as he showed her other places that could be torn and maimed into a bloody mess.

But she was still quiet when he began the painful torture procedure all over again, and she didn't know which bothered him more -the fact that she wouldn't give him those agonised sounds she knew he wanted from her, that she knew made him feel all powerful and almighty. Or was it that she was beginning to find her voice again inside the crowd of taunts and barbaric violence?


	7. Chapter 7

Rain soaked her to her bone as she stood outside, patiently but not so patiently for the man who'd set this horrible life for her in motion. Her green eyes were fixed on the gates ahead, as blank and empty as she herself felt inside.

"You could look more livelier than you do, Callidora." The loathsome man beside her admonished with wicked ill humour. "One would think you a flayed woman were it not for your skin being visible." He smirked and chuckled as f it were a joke.

It most certainly was not.

"If I were you, I'd focus more on what to tell your father with no news of a child arriving from me." Her eyes flickered to him and she saw the clenched jaw that he always had when she dared to back talk him. "I've been here for five full moons now. That's ample time for it to have happened, and yet, no swelling of my midriff. He'll be so disappointed in you." She shot back.

"And I'll rectify it tonight, and maybe I'll find a use for that insolent mouth of yours too. You won't be using it to tell me what to do, that much you should be able to figure out inside that pretty head of yours." He said back smugly with the usual disgusting arrogance and her lip curled in disgust. "You won't put that disgusting piece of yourself anywhere near my mouth." She spat. "Go to your whore in the kennels for that. I'm not letting you degrade me as much as that. You do it in many other ways, but definitely not that. You can go to your whore or acquaint yourself with some of the whores in a brothel for it."

Ice blue eyes looked to her as he turned himself to look at her. "You sound envious." It wasn't a question; it was a taunting statement.

She hummed. "Not envious of you laying with them, if that's what you mean. I don't like to be treated as though I'm worthless, that's all. Have you ever considered I might adapt better if I were to know my surroundings? I've been locked in a room for the last five moons." She spat and those awful ice blue eyes glittered with dangerous delight. "Perhaps, but you have one of few duties and that is to give me a son or two. I'll make sure you are with one by the end of the cold season, my dear wife. And then you will have something to busy yourself with, feeding a ravenous child and all."

Her jaw tightened and she was about to lose her cool, but the gates swung open and the sound of approaching horses halted her from doing such. He would of probably struck her in public for that, or just made her pay for such in no way she should ever do so under the awful cover of darkness.

Green eyes watched as the man who was unfortunately her father in-law dismounted and came forward with his wife who was not at all on the small side whatsoever. The woman wasn't the horrible looking kind though, and if it not for her plumpness, she would have been unnaturally beautiful.

"You must be Callidora." The woman moved forward and pulled her into a light but not unwelcome embrace. "I'm Walda."

She couldn't muster a smile wider enough to please so she tweaked her lips slightly and nodded. "Pleasure," she murmured, adjusting her sleeves over the vile marks that covered her arms. Roose Bolton caught a glimpse of them before she did and his eyes switched to his son. "Lets get out of the cold, shall we?"

* * *

Dinner was a disastrous affair. She knew the old man was hinting at the marks on her arms, but she didn't talk. She ate as quietly as she could, and then he asked what she knew was already coming. "Any news of an heir yet?"

Her fork halted and she swallowed thickly. "Not of yet." The vile man sitting beside her replied back with a façade of pleasantness. "It isn't through a lack of trying, I assure you." He punctuated that with a skin crawling chuckle. Ice cold blue eyes turned their wicked stare onto her trembling form. "Is it, my lady?"

Callidora mustered up a weak smile that had irreparable cracks in its foundation before it had even began its painful journey. "No, my lord." She whispered and Ramsay smiled widely. "There, see." He said with that horrible, lying wide smile. "And we'll even make sure tonight, father. I was going to spend the night in her chambers anyways."

That had the most horrible feeling of despair come crashing through her and she briefly closed her eyes, willing the tears away. He couldn't do that, could he? Of course he could -he was her husband. She should be grateful she even had her own chambers as she knew all too well it would most definitely not be like that once they acquired Winterfell.

"Might I retire for the evening? I feel none too well." She said and Roose nodded once. She smiled briefly and quickly stood up, her shoes making little to no sound as she made a hasty retreat from the room.

* * *

He might be a liar, but unfortunately, this just wasn't one of those times.

Mossy green eyes watched him warily. "You won't touch me tonight?" She asked sceptically and he showed her that awful, sly smile. "Not at all. I don't bow down to my father, the old man he is. How does he even get it up in that Frey bitch?" He wondered out loud.

Her mouth was dry but she talked nonetheless. "I don't know. Maybe he has help." She commented sarcastically and ice blue eyes turned to her. "Well, don't you have an appealable side to you after all. So, what did you think about the fat bitch then?"

He was testing her -she knew it. Licking her lips anxiously, she spoke carefully. "I don't know her that well, but you seem to think she'll become a threat to your claim."

He seemed annoyed albeit pleased at the same time. "Well, of course she will be." He walked forward with an unhidden arrogant smugness. "Do use that pretty little head of yours, my lady. She'll give him his own heirs if he can manage to get it up, after all. Anyone who can do that will always be a threat to me, to you even. If he can get his own heirs from her, what need does he have for you?"

She tried not to flinch as he trailed a dirty finger under her jaw and turned her face towards his. "But I have no intention of letting him harm you, dear, dear wife." She swallowed thickly at that, willing herself not to be sick before she looked him squarely in the eyes. "Why me?" She couldn't muster anything louder than a whisper. "I don't understand. Sansa fled Kings Landing -you could've married her. Arya is somewhere in the seven kingdoms, I'm sure of it."

The smirk he smiled unnerved her. "Because you were the closest, and he wanted someone who wasn't wed to someone else. Sansa married a dwarf, didn't you know? You were untouched and I most definitely know that. I hadn't had a virgin before, did you know that?"

That made her feel a little sick. "So I was just another accomplishment, hm? Another sick game? Well I tire of them. My brothers will get me out of this wretched place and I'll smile as they kill you." She spat before rolling away from him, her breath trembling between her lips as she felt him climb under the pelts behind her, the room plunging into darkness as he extinguished the candle that was on the table beside him.

It was even a minute later before his hand slid around her throat and she knew she'd been a fool to trust his lies. "You said you wouldn't." She whispered, the words cutting off quickly as his hand tightened. "And you never asked if I was a liar." He replied casually while undoing the laces of her nightgown with his free hand. She squeezed her eyes shut. He wasn't a man, he was a monster, and well, monsters were made to die.


	8. Chapter 8

It was time. She couldn't take no more, and a wince tore from her lips as she gently pressed on the bruises that covered her arms from the elbow down. For someone who seemed desperate to please yet manipulate his father at the same time, he sure wasn't doing what he'd ordered. She had overhead them talking when the said older man and his 'wife' had come to see how long it was taking to produce an heir. _I saw the marks covering her skin,_ her father in law had said with a dangerous seriousness. _She isn't a game, and she isn't something for you to amuse yourself with either. End it now._

And he hadn't. In fact, the whole thing on being ordered to stop injuring her had simply made him do it more, and it was because of that she had to leave -now. She used all the available strength she had and flipped the mattress with enough force that it flipped off the bed. Heart racing and fear pounding into her with every beat that vital organ made inside her chest, she snatched up the key and paused as she stared down at the letter. Should she take it? It wouldn't take a genius -something he certainly wasn't despite his slyness and cunning intelligence- to figure out where she was going to be going. Pausing another minute and not wanting to waste another, she decided to forgo the letter and rushed towards the door, her cloak wrapped tight around her. She couldn't be recognised and sent to _him_.

The key worked like a charm and she rushed from the room, praising whatever deity that was watching over her that no one was in the corridor. It was the feast time and she knew from the dull talks he made her sit though after assaulting her that he would be out for a hunt in thirty minutes. She dreaded the fate of whatever poor girl he had decided to select for this barbaric hunt. It was disgusting and made her skin crawl.

She was free and clear of being seen or even coming across someone or anyone even until she reached the battlements and she saw the one she was running from down in the courtyard with the kennel whore. The dinner wasn't supposed to be over for another good half an hour. Panic seared though her like fire. How could she get out now?

Quickly and without hesitation, she turned and strode towards an arch in the stone and it led her onto another part of the battlement, an all but abandoned part. She ducked past the one occupant, grateful to be away from him and his bitch. They brought out the worst in each other, and it was probably best not to be near them as she was escaping. She would probably end up being their prey, never mind the unfortunate girl they'd picked this time. What did they ever do to them? Exist?

She found an exit to wherever she was and slipped out of it, her eyes widening as she saw the drop she had to do to get out of this dreaded place -it was quite well named actually. Gritting her teeth, and closing her eyes at the same time, she jumped.

Pain seared up one leg as she crumpled to the floor, and she withheld her sob of such torment. It was painful, yes, but bearable after it faded to a dull throb. Still grimacing, she took the bottom of her fur topped cloaked in her hands and tore off the edge, wrapping and tying it off as tight as she could over where the pain was. She had just sprained it, and it was bearable, just.

And as if it couldn't get worse, which it did as soon as she heard them, the loud bells she had heard only once shattered the somewhat peace of the evening. That was enough for her. She scrambled to her feet, and after testing her weight, she ran as fast as she could, which despite an injured ankle, was quite fast.

The hood of her cloak and there was an answering shout from the battlements above her and that terrified her. The bells got louder and then she heard those dreaded, vicious, awful hounds in the distance. It was as if the dreaded duo had heard those bells too, and she glanced between the moat and the forest. Water -she could control that element so to speak better than she could on land, and it would be easier to escape him like that. Land- she would be caught quicker and he would more than likely assault her with an audience.

Hell no.

She dashed for the water, cringing at the disgusting smell. How lovely. But withholding her grimace of disgust, she jumped in, spluttering as she surfaced and began swimming for the other side immediately. Being surrounded by water her whole life, she knew how to swim, and quite strongly too. She cut through the water as if it were air, and a quick glance back told her she needed to be quicker -he was there with the kennel whore, two snarling, foaming at the mouth mutts on his side beside him.

It felt like she had been in the water all her life when she eventually pulled herself out of the disgusting, filthy water. The cold wind froze the water that clung to her skin and wearily, she dragged herself on and stumbled into the forest that was on the opposite side of the bank, her leg aching as she ran into the trees, piercing blue eyes staring after her with amused malice.


	9. Chapter 9

Her fingers were numb when she awakened from the position in which she'd collapsed into the night previous, her limbs empty of strength at all. She hadn't stopped running once, and just to her luck, sarcasm noted, a thin layer of snow had fallen during her unconscious episode. It made her usual rose coloured lips become tinted with a pale blue and each breath wheezed between her lips.

She was Northern, yes, but this was uncomfortable. She was used to the cold, yes, but sleeping in it? Absolutely not.

By now, surely news of her escape would of reached her brothers, but she was closer to the Bolton's than the Marcellus armies. She didn't even know where they were, and as she clambered wearily to her feet, she learned one side knew of her whereabouts at least.

An arrow twanged past her head and impacted into the tree she was tiredly resting against. It startled her and she scrambled away from it with wide, horrified eyes. The howling of those fearsome hounds followed and she bolted quickly despite her tired and aching limbs. She felt dizzier than normal and shivers wracked her small body and she knew it wasn't from the cold either. More than likely she had caught a chill during the night while she was unconscious.

Her limbs ached and she could barely run so when someone slammed themselves into her, she didn't make a sound of pain at all. It was as if she wasn't inside her weak body, that she was watching it from above or beside it. Her eyes blurred but she saw the cold, furious yet wickedly amused frost blue eyes staring down at her before all went numb and all went dark.

* * *

The most horrible cold pulled her from her slumber and she shot up in bed, the thick pelts around her drenched with what looked like icy water. It chilled her to the bone and as she couldn't muster enough strength to use her trembling arms to support her weight, she collapsed back into the awful cold.

"Ah," the cruel blue eyed monster exclaimed proudly. "You're awake."

He looked in a rather good mood, but over the last months, she'd soon learned not to trust the snake of a man he was. He could change as quick as she could snap her fingers or even blink. "Why are you so joyful?" She muttered, fighting to keep her eyes open as she saw another bucket on the floor beside him. She didn't think she'd survive another dousing of ice cold water that chilled her to the bone.

Wicked blue eyes stared at her. "Why, I have you back of course!" He replied as though it were the most obvious thing in the world and she paled. That didn't sound good even in a somewhat innocent sentence like that. "Although, I must confess, I was rather infuriated by your escape. And I read the letter your weakling of a brother sent you. Did you really think I would give you such _precious and valuable_ information?" He let out a wicked snicker. "Or were you going to do it in that unique way only you can do?"

She paled even further despite her already pale and clammy complexion. He knew everything then. Damn it. Should of taken that letter and submerged it in the lake as she swam across it. A violent cough ripped though her and her throat hurt afterwards, and she flinched and then froze as his dirty, bloodstained hand came and rubbed deceptively soothing circles on her back. It was all a dirty, dirty trick.

And sure enough it was. As soon as she'd finished coughing, his vile fingers gripped her hair with enough force that she let out a pained, croaked cry which cracked pathetically. She shivered in the cold and his cruel mouth tipped upwards as he noticed her shuddering. "Oh, what's the matter, Callidora?" He mocked. "Are you feeling unwell, a little cold, if I dare to say?"

It was all a sick game to him, she realised as he pulled her from the soaking wet bed despite her futile, one time struggle to rid herself of his hands. "Well, we can't have you in cold, wet clothes then, can we?" He demonstrated such by using the same strength he'd displayed on their wedding night and ripped her attire down the back, the green fabric rippling and pooling at her bare feet. The cold air of the room hit her like a baton and she sagged in his grasp, her knees buckling as the cold weakened her even more.

"There." He said with a disgusting proudness and she let out a soft moan of pain as his fingers gripped one of her once healing bruises, her knees trembling as she fought off the pain that was echoing though her when the cold burned her already clammy and cold skin.

"Do you know, I was rather looking forward to chasing you through the forest. Violet didn't give much of a chase if we're being honest with each other." He commented casually and she used all her strength to snort in protested disgust. "Since when are you honest with me? You torment and you lie and you kill people for fun because your sick mind thinks its fun to hurt others." She spat and he paused, spinning her around to face him and staring at her with amused blue eyes. "Is that what you think? I'm being honest with you now."

"How are you being honest?" She hissed, holding in her exclamation of pain as the fingers over her bruises tightened.

"Well, for a start, I'm going to tell you I'm going to make you wish you hadn't escaped and another rather unfortunate repercussion of your little escape or rather unfortunate for you and fortunate for me is that you won't be in this room for much longer. Notice something, my dear wife?" He said simply.

Frowning in confusion, she looked around the room. The few books she had were no longer there and she couldn't find them either. The small piece of sewing she'd done weren't in there place beside the window, and she couldn't see her jewellery box that contained her few retrieved pieces of jewellery from home anywhere too. Her angry eyes turned to him. "Going to put me in the dungeon beside your latest amusements?"

He laughed as though her question was beyond hilarious -comical even. "The dungeons? With you being the key to producing an heir for the north? Father would have my head, no doubt about it. Oh no, dear wife of mine, you'll be occupying my chambers from now one."

That made her eyes widen in horror and with strength she didn't know she had, she began to struggle in his arms but he merely held on tighter. It made her even more determined but still he managed to hold onto her. "Now, now." He admonished mockingly as tears pooled in her green eyes. "We'll have none of that. You should be grateful Father even allowed you to have your own chambers until now, but I'm afraid your escape angered him some and he all but demanded you reside with me." He said it as though he was soothing or comforting her, but she heard that smug smirk in his voice. He was enjoying her anguish and that made her even more angered and upset.

Those murderous hands of his suddenly shoved her with enough force that she fell back into the soaking pelts and as soon as she realised what he was going to do to her even as she was sick, she scrambled back but he lunged for her and a hot hand closed around her ankle, tugging her back.

"But first," he said with cruel delight and she lashed out, kicking and squirming and thrashing to get out of his hold despite the fact she hadn't succeeded once before in doing so. "First I think you need to be reminded who you belong to, and that there isn't any escape from me."


	10. Chapter 10

She was terrified, albeit rather surprised that his room didn't differ much to hers. Same type of bed with the same four carved wooden posts at each corner of the bed and the same thick yet beautiful pelts lining his bed as they had once hers. Same roaring fire that was currently casting a deep, amber like glow over the room, the same bookshelf but just filled with more books -hers were on what could be classed as 'her' side of 'their' bed. She hated referring to it as _their_ bed and he knew it all too well too.

It was also worse waking up beside him. She didn't know whether she would wake with water thrown over her, with his body invading and hurting hers like he did under the cover of darkness -she was subjected to it in the morn too now as well as night; it just depended on the mood he woke up in. She been woken up with him already inside and assaulting her, his blatant disregard for her illness making her be sick for longer. It was as if he was deliberately trying to keep her weakened enough so she wouldn't attempt to escape again -which he probably was too.

And having just dozed off and trying to catch up on the sleep she desperately needed, and then being woken up with the bed jarring underneath her as he purposefully shook her as violently as he could didn't help matters either. Weak, sleep deprived moss green eyes looked at the bully that was her husband and roommate with contempt. "What now? Go to your kennel whore. I'm exhausted and need sleep." She mumbled, her eyes sliding shut once again.

But he wouldn't have it and pulled her upright with ease, her body slumping into his with no resistance because she was too weak to move much, let alone defend herself from his harsh and cruel and unusual torture techniques. "I promise you a tour of the dungeons after all, didn't I? It'll give you a chance to see what'll happen to you once you've given me those heirs I seek from you."

Laboured breaths shuddered between her pale and cracked lips. "No," she murmured. "You can take me down there but I won't look. I'll never look at your poor, mostly innocent victims." She finished defiantly and he pulled back, his fingers threading through her hair and tugging her head back so he could see her face clearly. "Is that so?"

Her eyes cracked open, dull moss green irises staring back at him. "Yes. I won't listen and I'll probably collapse on the way there." She muttered and his eyes shone with mirth. "Whoever said you were walking? Oh no. If you can't get there yourself, Reek will merely carry you down there. He's quite accustomed to what is down there, having lost his cock down there after all."

She withheld her nausea and supressed a shudder although he saw it regardless and a maniac grin came over his pale skinned face. "Oh yes, he was such a fun thing to play with down in there. But enough talking." Her eyes slid shut once again and she no longer felt the soft and inviting yet invisibly blood stained pelts beneath her as he lifted her from the bed with such ease that it frightened her. She didn't like his hands on her even though he'd done it dozens of time over the nights he's forced her to lay beneath him like a whore. No, the dog girl was that. She'd heard them.

It wasn't long though before she wasn't held by him no more and although she didn't want those hands holding her anymore than she wanted these traitorous ones doing so, at least Theon was a somewhat more gentler man than the one who was cheerfully humming -probably thinking about what poor soul he was going to skin now. She inwardly shuddered.

The smell of the place was something she smelt from upstairs and her stomach curdled. But she held it in, refusing to let him see he was winning. The rusted gates creaked and she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes as she heard the inhuman moans of pain from the prisoners that were in this awful place. It stank like death and it wasn't a pleasant smell. She grimaced this time, feeling the bile that was bubbling in her stomach just threatening to break free and cover her in it.

"You may leave, Reek." The monster stated gleefully and the man holding her placed her on what of been a sort of wooden chair for he supported her against the wall behind such a seat. She daren't open her eyes, and that seemed to amuse and displease the monster who was in the room with her for the sound of his approaching boots made her inwardly cringe. She doubted she was here just to give him peace of mind that she wouldn't run off again.

"I brought you down here to watch, not for you to fall asleep and bore me. I don't like to be bored, Callidora." He admonished and her breaths wheezed through her pale lips. "Then amuse yourself with some poor soul other than me. I'm sick." She murmured.

"And you'll be even sicker in a moment if you don't open those pretty, pretty green eyes of yours, lest I gouge them from their sockets. That would amuse me."

Deciding to open them for the moment and then close them when he wasn't looking, she soon wished she hadn't and all thoughts of sleep left her as she saw the awful, sickening demonstration he'd no doubt prepared beforehand for her to witness. Her head twisted to the side and the awful burning bile flowed from her mouth and hit the dirty floor with a sickening splat.

Ramsay watched on, amused. "I'm sure you won't be sleeping down here now, will you?"

* * *

Sweat dripped down her brow as she weakly peeled her eyes open, the mossy green meeting only darkness. It was still night. She glanced to her right to see the man she hated sleeping peacefully next to her. He didn't look threatening when he was asleep, but it was just an appearance and the devil laid underneath that calm expression.

She felt sick to her stomach, and not just because of the awful dream she'd just had about the horror she'd now been exposed to. She was sicker than she'd ever been sick. Her breaths just managed to wheeze between her cracked lips and her eyes watered as the sickening feeling inside her only grew.

A hot hand locked around her wrist as she made to move to get herself more comfortable and she froze, eyes wide and frightened as she turned to look at the startlingly awake blue eyes that she could see the colour of even in complete darkness. "Rather late to be awake, don't you think?" He asked in a low voice and she swallowed, the action helping to weaken the nausea some. "I feel as though I'm going to be sick." She whispered.

He looked a little more alert at that and the hand released her and she frowned when he gripped her nightgown and ripped it in half. "What are you doing?" She exclaimed, giving his shoulders a weak shove as he moved on top of her.

"Calming my curiosity." Was his murmured reply and she glared up at him as his filthy hands caressed her body with a gentleness she didn't know he possessed. She didn't want him touching her, not at this time at night and more certainly not when she felt sicker than a dog. "Please remove your hands from me." She whispered.

His thumbs caressed the skin under her breasts with a somewhat curious glance. "Hm," he murmured. "Not quite yet then. Must just be an illness indeed."

He released her after that as she climbed from the bed, retrieving a new nightgown -she wasn't giving him unhindered access to her body while she tried to rest. She slipped it over her head, balling the ruined one up and placing it on one of the chairs that were tucked under the small table. Ice blue eyes watched as she reluctantly climbed back onto the bed, slipping her tired self under the thick furs. As she was about to close her eyes to hopefully get some sleep, she opened them again and looked at him. "You thought I was pregnant, didn't you?"

And there it was -even in the earlier than sane hours of the morning, he still managed to show that arrogant, smug smirk. "Perhaps. Are you?"

Her eyes cooled some. "No, I'm not. And I don't want to talk about this either." She grumbled and went to roll over, to move away from him, but he stopped her by gripping her arm tightly, creating more bruises to add to the already growing collection. "Well, if you don't, then I do. You did wake me up after all."

Callidora clenched her jaw. "Then go back to sleep and let me do the same." She hissed her response and he grinned. "Of course, after we have this no doubt interesting discussion."

She sighed angrily. "I'm not pregnant, and I don't want to be, and I'll never be. There. Now we've talked and now I want to sleep." She spat with a fury in her voice and he raised a brow mockingly. "You're young, fertile and able to give me a son or two. What makes you think you won't be with child by the end of the colder than cold season?"

Her jaw clenched and she glowered at him. "Because I'll never let an innocent child know the monster that is its father." She hissed before pulling her wrist from his grasp and she shuffled away from him, green eyes watching him warily. "I won't let you taint its innocence," she whispered.

That made him laugh as though it were the most funniest thing he'd ever heard. "And I think you're forgetting your place, Callidora. Your job is to simply lay there and give me however many heirs I want." He said with a dark chuckle. "I'll _taint_ those heirs of mine however I please. You won't live to see them reach adulthood so how will you stop me, hm?"

She choked a little at that. "Because from the time they're born to the time you kill me, I'll tell about what you could never, ever give them." She hissed and he raised a brow. "And what would that be? That their pathetic and weakling uncles are going to come and rescue them from the monster that is their father?"

Green eyes shone defiantly in the dark. "I'll tell and I'll give them love, something you could never do because you've never loved anyone in your pathetic little life."

That made his jaw clench angrily. "We'll see. And now you have a choice, Callidora. You can either shut that desirable mouth of yours and be silent as I show you just how much that mouth of yours is going to cost you, or you can beg me to end the pain I'm about to inflict on you. Your choice, after all." He commented casually as if he was discussing the weather outside and she paled but glared at him. "You're disgusting."

He smirked as his hands began to slide up under her nightgown. "The latter option, I take it. Excellent."


	11. Chapter 11

Eight long months she'd endured this pain, this torture, and her eyes watered as she mustered enough courage to think about the remaining, no doubt horrible years of her life she had left. Her eyes watered even more as she stared up at the ceiling of the chamber she now shared with Ramsay. She had expected torture devices and knives and cruelly serrated blades, her surprise bodily gripping when she saw none.

He was currently off discussing whatever with the lords who were allied to House Bolton, and how to eradicate the apparent problem that were her brothers. She sighed deeply, tucking her hair behind her ears. There'd been no moons blood, and she couldn't hide that from him forever -he'd soon notice and demand her be kept under a tighter watch so she couldn't harm herself or the babe that could be growing inside her. He'd tote her around like a prized sow at a fair.

Her lip curled at that.

Yes, she was sick almost every morning but by the time such a horrible thing came to pass, he was already gone from the room, leaving her to amuse herself during the day -not that she wasn't glad for that of course.

Her breasts ached too and he'd soon notice the darkening circles there too -he did after all force himself on her each night and sometimes in the morning, depending on what kind of mood he was in when he awakened. He hadn't touched her last night or this morning, giving her reason to believe he was using the kennel bitch for such and not her.

Good. She'd much rather he went to the whore than to force himself onto her and paint her thighs with deep purple splotches from such an assault. She wanted him to go to her, marry her even, but he couldn't do that until she was either dead or well, there was no other option.

The footsteps outside the door made her panic levels spike once again and she remained silent as the Lord Bolton himself came through the door, snow dusting his cloak. "Your brothers are a nuisance." He vented and she hummed. "Good. It means they're doing their jobs properly."

He sat beside her on the bed and she turned her head to look at him. "I heard one of their underlings were coming with a message for you, and you planned to greet him with a feast." She commented before looking back at the ceiling. Blue eyes turned to look at her. "And where did you hear such information?"

She snorted. "Oh, Myranda had plenty to talk about when she came earlier with breakfast. Rather bitter, isn't she? Mocked and insulted and was rather rude. I just told her to get out and leave me be." She looked at him with cool, green eyes. "But of course, you knew that, didn't you?"

He smirked and she rolled her eyes, looking back up at the ceiling. He saw the untouched food the was still on the small table. "And you didn't eat it."

"No." She replied bluntly and he sighed in mock disappointment. "Well that just won't do, will it? I must confess -I think force feeding would be rather fun, don't you agree?"

"No," she ground out. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm sick and I simply don't want to eat for fear it'll reappear in a less than pleasant form." She said back simply and that caught his attention. "You've been sick?"

Callidora's mouth thinned into a firm, straight line and his hand gripped her hair when she didn't answer him. "I asked you a question, dear wife."

"Yes," she winced out. "Yes, I've been sick. Merely an illness that will soon pass tonight after some rest." She rushed out quickly and the fingers holding her hair loosened a little but not by much. "Is that so? Any changes or situations I should be made aware of?" He continued with a false, innocent smile and she paled but shook her head. "No, my lord, nothing at all."

* * *

Of course, he didn't believe her, but strangely be, he didn't touch her that night, or the night after that either. Something was amiss. And when the day that her brothers messenger came, she was wary yet astounded he was letting her come out of the room that was her prison and that she was to join the feast. It rang alarm bells all over in her head.

He was up to something. And she didn't like it one bit.

She recognised the man her brothers had sent as Enid, one of Nathanial's underlings. He sent her a calm smile but she saw the worrying beneath it and he pressed a kiss to her hand. "Lady Bolton." She saw him force the words out and then he looked to the smirking smug man who was next to her as she took her seat beside him.

Something struck her as odd though as the man serving the wine didn't come to her and water was placed in her glass instead. Her eyes travelled to the smirking man beside her and she noticed the victorious smugness in his cruel smile. _Oh God._ He knew. How could he know? She looked to the fair haired woman who was standing against the far wall as a helper and then it all became clear. The whore had helped her lace her undergarments into their usual tight fashion and she'd seen.

"So, what would Prince Georgian like to discuss?" Ramsay began while she fretted inwardly inside her head. How could he know just from that though? He hadn't seen her be sick more times than often. But he must be aware she had missed her bleed. Her eyes began to glass over with tears.

She was doomed.

Enid took a deep swallow of his wine before speaking. "He'd like his sister returned to him in one piece, unharmed and not pregnant." He said as calmly as he could and dread filled her. That wouldn't be possible.

"I'm afraid that simply wouldn't be possible. She's no longer a virgin and no man would take her. I made sure of that. As for unharmed, she looks in one piece to you, doesn't she?"

She bristled at that. The long sleeves of her dress covered the gut wrenching bruises that littered her skin and even worse ones covered her legs- Enid just simply couldn't see them, and he looked her over before nodding. "She is indeed. Not pregnant?"

Ice blue eyes moved to her. "Ask her yourself. Are you pregnant, Callidora?"

Her eyes sank down to her knotted fingers and she heard Enid inhale sharply. "My lady?" But she couldn't do it, she couldn't look at him and she heard the smirk in the voice belonging to the man beside her. "So you see, she simply cannot be returned, not that I was going to give her back. Maybe in pieces after she's given me a son or two." He commented casually and the chair Enid was sitting on scraped back abruptly. "You're asking for war." He hissed.

The hall doors opened and in strode the man responsible for her unfortunate situation. "The only war you'll have is one you start." He replied with a dangerous voice and Enid narrowed his eyes. "You started one the minute your forces stormed our cities walls and took our princess hostage. You should be grateful Prince Nathanial hasn't waged a war already for he does have tendencies to do such from time to time." He snapped back.

"And we aren't afraid of Prince Nathanial, or any of the others." Ramsay quipped back with malicious glee, blue eyes shining with sadistic delight. "Marcellus forces are spread thin and we both know it. You've been attacked by the iron scum, and by Lannister forces in the last seven moons. Your men are off fighting all those different armies and you only have around four thousand remaining. We have a thousand men above you. I would think before you set a chain of events in which will lead to your ultimate demise."

* * *

She couldn't stop weeping as she was shoved into the room, tears falling thick and fast down her cheeks. The monster smirked at her. "Been keeping some rather important information from me, have you?"

She stumbled backwards away from him as quickly as she could, her back soon meeting the wall. "I'm not pregnant," she tried to protest feebly but he shook his head, clicking his tongue and tutting her mockingly. "Didn't we agree not to lie to each other on our wedding night?" He scolded with wicked amusement and she reached for the candlestick as a weapon but he got there first, his fingers gripping her wrists and dragging them above her head. She cried out, pleading for him to let her go. "Do we want to try that again?" His dirty lips grazed her jaw.

Callidora trembled violently. "I'm not pregnant," she ground out as firmly as she could and he looked at her with amusement. "You're still lying, aren't you? Should I see for myself? Yes I think I will. Turn around, Callidora, now." He said in a low, dangerous voice and she remained frozen against the wall, her limbs shaking. "No," she whispered.

"No?" He repeated in a chuckle, eyes shining viciously. "Better yet, this is much easier." His hands released her wrist and as he went to tear her dress down the front, she immediately shoved at him, twisting in his grasp so he merely grabbed her around the waist, holding her tight around it with his arm while his free hand undid the ties keeping her dress together at the back. It was too late now, but she couldn't let him think he'd won. His hand came up and gripped her chin as he finished undoing them and as a finger waved close to her mouth, she seized her chance and sank her teeth into the flesh, her face twisting in a grimace at the taste of blood.

He hissed, delight covering his face immediately. "Now, now," he admonished playfully. "No need for that. You should of just told the truth, my lady, and then there would be no need for me to be so firm with you."

Tears pooled in her eyes as he shoved her down onto the bed, grabbing her legs and turning her over. She looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. She was doomed. "Please let me go," she whispered tearfully.

But it was too late. He's already seen the dark circles and the ever so slightly raised area of her stomach. "Oh, and didn't you tell me not too long ago that you would never have a child with me as the father?" He commented cruelly and she kicked her leg out, the assault impacting her shin between his legs. He groaned ever so slightly but didn't release her, instead spreading her legs around him so she couldn't do it again.

"I hope its a girl," she spat and he merely chuckled. "And then I'll make you pregnant again, and again, and again until I have a son or two. Don't get me wrong, a daughter would be fantastic for forging alliances with the other houses, but sons will do more than that."

"We'll have to get Maester Wolkan to look at you, won't we? Oh, and announce it for all the houses to know. And you won't be staying in here alone. You'll be with me. Can't have you harming yourself or my heir, can we?"

Her eyes watered miserably and tears trickled down her pale cheeks. "Please don't," she pleaded as she felt his hands moving over her chest, the soreness of her breasts making her flinch every time his fingers grazed them, and she knew he was doing it on purpose to torment her.

The smirk he smirked made her go cold inside. "Your brothers little friend is remaining here for the night, and then as soon as he's given his message to one of his disciples, I'm going to flay him for disrespecting us earlier." She shook her head and lashed out, his head snapping to the side as the palm of her hand struck his cheek. Dangerous yet smug eyes looked back at her as the side of his face turned red. "Wrong move."


	12. Chapter 12

The news was not received well by her brothers, or so she'd heard. The news was received quite differently in the Dreadfort. Roose seemed pleased and it unnerved her with just how _pleased_ he seemed to be. It also disgusted her. He cared about no one but himself. Appalling, all of them were.

And the worst part about being with child was the fact she was constantly in the presence of the one person she despised the most -her loathsome husband. He took pride in making her life hell, pointing out what he wanted to call his son and how he might just feed her to the hounds after this one child.

They were currently standing on the battlements and she watched the thousands of men training just outside the fort walls. Her stomach was just starting to swell and she felt sicker than the normal and it wasn't pleasant at all. He seemed to know this to. "You look rather peaky." He pointed out.

"And I don't care." She hissed, fed up with him constantly tormenting her. "I'm sick and I want you to leave me be." She finished with furious green eyes. He grinned, smug about riling her up into a rage. She was so much more amusing pregnant, it seemed, her temper flying out of control at the slightest thing.

"You must do for you look so enraged." He countered and she clenched her jaw, eyes narrowing and sliding over to him. "I'm quite fine, thank you. I'm cold, tired, sore and annoyed by being in your presence all the time. Can you blame me for being quite irritated with my current predicament?"

He smirked. "Not at all. I had no idea I infuriated you such." He said simply and she snorted. "You would think being a grown man that you would be better at lying, especially to someone whose unfortunately married to you." She snapped angrily, turning away from him to look at the southern wall, eyes glaring over the snow covered hills. Her brothers were somewhere out in that cold, but where? There'd been no more letter other than the one that some stranger had smuggled her. She still didn't know who that was.

But he just wouldn't let her be and he simply moved beside her, he too looking out over the southern walls. "Some people in the Dreadfort are less than pleased as Father and I."

She turned to glance at him. "Myranda and the rest of your bed warming whores? I'm not stupid. I know Violet was chased down and murdered because she was pregnant. Is that what you have planned for me? Chase me down with your rabid mutts and then name a pup after me? Why can't you just let me go?" She grumbled before turning away from him and he smirked. "So you know about everything, do you? The child mightn't of been mine. Violet was know for spreading her legs for everything that walked on two legs and talked."

A sharp hum vibrated through her. "I know that too. Myranda likes to talk when I don't want to hear or even see her. Must you have her be a such a nuisance? I feel fit to jump off these walls."

He levelled her with a look and she snorted. "And give you the satisfaction of driving me to killing myself? No thank you."

That made the smirk return. "Let us talk about that letter your brothers smuggled in somehow. How did they get it into the Dreadfort?"

She sighed deeply. "I suppose since I'm not getting out of this, I'd better tell you then." She said quietly and his smirk widened. "Why of course," he said, feigning innocence and she glowered off into the distance. "Don't mock me." She hissed. "You've assaulted me over and over again from the time I was forced into marrying you to the time you eventually got me with child, and now you have no reason to touch me. Go and let me go back to solitude because its much more pleasurable than your company."

He chuckled with wicked amusement burning in his blue eyes. "Is that so? I have plenty of reasons to touch you, Callidora, but before you say something that I'm sure you'll come to regret, quieten the pretty mouth of yours. I won't have you being disrespectful in front of the guards, my dear wife." He said dangerously and she glared out over the hills in the distance, wishing that Marcellus armies would appear as if she had commanded them to do so.

But no such luck befell her and she sighed. "I don't know who brought me that letter, and I left it because it didn't have anything important in it. It was simply comforting words."

She brushed the snowflakes from her shoulders in irritation. "I'm cold." She grumbled and he made a face. "You're a Northerner, my lady. Cold in winter? I don't think so."

Her mouth thinned irritably. If this was what she was going to be subjected to, perhaps jumping from the battlements wasn't a bad idea after all.

* * *

Blurred eyes and a whooping cough didn't make for better days, but it got her out of being in his presence, or so she thought anyways. He let her be for the morning, and tormented her from that time afterwards. Whenever she'd try to get some rest and shut her eyes to block him out, he was cruel and would rouse her with a sharp nudge.

And after the fifth time, she'd had more than enough and moved away from him, grabbing the pillow from under her head and pressing it to her abdomen. She heard and felt him move again and when he went to touch her, she moved further from him. "Don't touch me." She grumbled wearily, the words forming out into a violent cough. She covered her mouth with the pillow, eyes watering as she did.

A devilish chuckle came from behind her. "You don't tell me what to do." He laughed it off as though it were an amusing statement, but to her it most certainly wasn't. She turned over and narrowed her eyes, a furious fire burning inside her. "Will you please," she forced that word out, "just let me sleep? I'm exhausted." She whispered, pleading.

"I'm bored." He replied simply and she sighed, eyes rolling like marbles. "Then let me be and go amuse yourself with the poor souls you torture each day. Go to your whores and bed them. I don't care as long as you let me be and let me sleep." She snapped and his smirk widened. "Is that so? Maybe I should seek my pleasure much closer to me than a whore."

Her eyes widened. "You have what you set out to achieve -I'm pregnant. You don't need to touch me." She was pleading now, eyes misting over. And she watched in dread as his smirk widened. "Then I suppose I'll just have to be a little more gentler than normal, won't I? Not too gentle, of course." He said it with a false smile and false pleasantness. "You do after all need to be put back into place for disrespecting me and thinking that because you're pregnant I won't touch you."

She quivered fearfully as his mouth grazed her ear, tearful eyes going down. " _Wrong_ ," he hissed, grabbing a fistful of her lank hair and gripping it so tight he forced her head back. Watery eyes stared at amused cold blue ones. "You don't need to." She whispered in a last attempt to escape what she knew yet dreaded was coming. "I'll do anything, but please, don't make me..." She trailed off when he shushed her mockingly, taunting her. "Begging doesn't become you, or suit you, my lady."

A shudder rippled through her as his murderous fingers stroked her jawline, the deceptive gentleness terrifying her more so than what she knew was coming. Tearful eyes stared up at him, silently pleading him not to do what she knew was coming.

And come it did. Fingers clenched tight enough around her throat to form bruises and she spluttered, clawing at his hand while her eyes went wide. "This child would make life a little easier for you if it were a son." He commented casually while his other hand went to the ties on her nightdress. Her lips began to turn blue and she dug her nails into his hand, the show of violence only making him smirk darkly as he released her throat, air spluttering back into her lungs as black spots danced tauntingly before her eyes and she felt those violent hands move to rid her of the said garment. Tears burned in her eyes. It was like living in hell, and he was most certainly the devil incarnate himself.


	13. Chapter 13

Her hands enveloped her stomach as a dreadful pain burned beneath the skin, the feeling enough to make tears form in her mossy green eyes. The monster watched with mild interest from where he sat at the table, using his knife to peel a fruit. She clutched at her abdomen tighter, and when she did, only then did he speak. "And whatever is making your lovely face contort into the most unattractive looks now?"

She blinked back the tears. "I think somethings wrong." She whimpered out and he raised a brow. "I might be the one who causes pain, Callidora, but I'll need a little more information than that. So I'll ask again and you know how I hate repeating myself -What is the matter?"

Biting back her angered retort, she sat up a little straighter, one hand pressed against her stomach as if it would make the pain go. "I don't know. I have a pain and its unlike anything I've ever felt before." She whispered, eyes brimming with tears. He returned to peeling his fruit after a moment of watching the pain contort on her face, slight sadistic delight echoing through him at the sight of it.

"No, I'm serious so could you at least listen for once." She countered and then a horrified gasp shuddered through her lips as she saw the crimson red pooling on the lap of her nightgown. He glanced up irritably. "What?" He snapped, annoyed now. She was seriously pushing her luck. He went to cruelly warn her but as she scrambled up from the bed and the red stain became apparent, he placed both the knife and the fruit down. "Well, what is this? Surely you aren't flowering."

Tears pooled in her eyes. "I think I lost it." She whispered, too quiet for him to hear, even in the quiet of the room. Sure, she hadn't wanted to be pregnant with his child, but that didn't mean she had wanted to lose it! Tears leaked down her cheeks and he walked closer with a pleasant smile. "I didn't quite hear that, Callidora." His hand gripped her hair. "Do repeat what you just said, and do speak up, lest I remove your tongue so you can't speak again. Now, _. .say?_ " He said it slowly and with an equal slowness, she raised her watery eyes to his ice cold yet amused blue ones.

" _I think I lost it_." The whisper rang clear in his head and his hand released her, letting her sink to the ground and weep to herself, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her head hit the stone wall with a dull painful thud, and the man beside her made no move to console or help her up.

Instead, he strode from the room, the sound of the lock clicking shut making her tears fall harder. He was locking her in here forever. She closed her eyes, tears silently pouring down her face. Would her torment ever end? _When I'm dead_ , she thought bitterly, hands cupping her stomach again with the awful pain returning and the blood flowing a little more quickly from between her legs.

Yes, she hadn't wanted to become pregnant with his child, but that didn't mean that she had wanted the said child dead. Had the God's spared her the awful paim of childbirth? We're the watching her? She didn't know.

The sound of dull footsteps gave her consideration to rethink why she'd naturally assumed him leaving, and as the door unlocked at was pushed open, both the monster and Maester Wolkan there, the pain inside her chest returned and her eyes slid shut, blocking the outside world from her mind.

* * *

It was gone, that much could be sure. Within a little while, her stomach began to ever so slightly shrink, and the bleeding had stopped. And she dreaded the fact that as soon as he saw it had stopped, the pain would begin all over again.

Little flurries of snow came in through the window and she stood beside it, the snow melting as it touched her bare feet. Bleak green eyes stared out over the white land outside the window. It looked beautiful, that much was sure.

She wondered what gender the child would've been and if it would have changed Ramsay in any way. It was unlikely that it would've, but one could dream and hope, she supposed.

The sound of him approaching the door didn't even faze her, her eyes fixed on the world outside. It was painful to know that it was so close but out of her reach.

The locked door unlocked and was pushed open, he himself walking into the room. He tossed a leather garment at her, which she caught in surprise. He seemed to be unnervingly excited, gleeful, and it made her anxious. "Put that on." He ordered.

She frowned. "What is it? And why do you look so delighted? There's nothing delighting about losing a child." She said with an upset look and he grinned. "Then I'm sure you'll want to take part in the execution of the one responsible for such a loss. I said, again, put that on, now."

The frown deepened but fearing pain, she did as he asked and shielding her nakedness from him, the action making him smirk, she changed into the snug fitting leather garment. It hugged her curves as if it were made specifically for her, and her small stomach, the small but slowly vanishing mound, could be seen.

He noticed the lack of blood on her nightgown. "Am I to assume that you have finished bleeding?" The words were laced with a threat, so instead of lying and being struck like he'd done many a time before, she swallowed thickly and nodded once, the agony on her face making his smirk widen.

"Excellent. Turn around. " She frowned but did as he asked, feeling hands pull the leather garment tighter around her and lace it up quickly and sloppily, some of the ties done wrong -she could tell.

It was strange. Why on earth would he make her get changed into this garment? He walked down the still unfamiliar corridors, she following him at a close but still safe feeling distance. He would turn to make sure she was still there every once in awhile, his smile darkening as they got closer to being outside.

 _What was he up to_?

She got answer soon enough when she saw the two steeds waiting by the Dreadfort gates, and the two, snarling, foaming at the mouth hounds that didn't look like they were the friendliest of animals. She cringed, his plan now clear. Was she going to be hunted?

Apparently not. He pressed a bow into her hands with a quiver full of arrows soon following. "And before you get any not so clever ideas, don't even give shooting me a thought. I'll have the hounds on you before you can let the arrow loose." He warned with sadistic delight.

A scowl twisted her lips. "What am I doing here?"

He grinned wildly and took a stand beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders. He lifted one to point to outside the gates. "Out there is Kira, and Kira has had from midnight to now to run. She was rather jealous, and so blinded by such, so slipped a quite nasty little tonic into your morning tea."

Tears burned in her eyes at that. How could she of done that? Why would she of done that? "She is the reason I am no longer pregnant?" She murmured. It was like he was luring her into an elaborate trap, a trap only she couldn't escape from.

Cold fingers caressed her already sore jaw -he had gripped it the night previous and it ached dreadfully. "Yes, my wife. And now the tables have turned, so to speak. Kira is out there, running for her life, and we are going to end her life -the life of your unborn child for her traitorous one. Does that seem a fair trade to you?"

He gestured for her to mount her horse, her mind spinning uncontrollably as she did. He smirked, blue eyes shining with despicable amusement at the thought of her killing someone.

As if the soldiers back in her birthplace hadn't been proof enough.

Disgust twisted her insides. Why was she going along with this? _Out of fear for pain and because she wanted the bitch who'd killed an innocent baby out of spite to suffer_ , her mind thought bitterly. The first reason mostly, the second just a little less than the first.

She could escape... No, she couldn't. He'd have those vicious hounds after her before she could blink and they didn't look the nicest of animals either.

She could kill him... Same consequence, those dirty animals would be on her before she could do a single thing to defend herself.

Albeit rather reluctantly, she followed him closely as he raced out of the gates, Theon, or rather Reek, following close behind her as she followed him. It didn't feel right, but with the fear of being the one to be hunted and tore apart by his dogs running clear through her, she remained quiet and followed him after the sound of howling reached her ears.

He dismounted first and she frowned. "We're going on foot?" She asked and he smirked, pulling her off her steed and his devilish grin widened. "Of course. Kira has to have a, _fair chance_ of leaving the woods."

She paled. "She won't be leaving here alive, will she?"

Blue eyes shone before he grabbed her hand tightly and began pulling her behind him as he chased after the hounds. She couldn't see anyone ahead. Perhaps the infant murderer had escaped?

Oh, no she hadn't. A dark haired woman dashed into view and Ramsay grabbed her arm, moving his head to whisper in her ear. "And now here is where you come in, wife. She killed your baby, my heir, the heir to the North. Go on." He whispered, goading her on. "Shoot her, cut her down. She deserves no less." He chuckled. "It was either this or I flayed her while she was still breathing, and well, this is much more thrilling."

It was wrong, but rage spiked clear through her system and she pulled away, fingers reaching for an arrow that was a plentiful in the wooden quiver on her back. But she did anyways, and he went to assist in her aim but she pulled away. "I've been doing it since childhood. And don't touch me." She snapped, letting the arrow loose at the end of her words.

It missed, but only by a fraction, and she heard the scream of terror in response. He chuckled. "You can do better than that. Surely you don't want a duo of ravenous dogs to get to her first? I'll even make you a deal. You get her before the dogs, I won't spread your legs tonight and take what's mine."

She clenched her jaw. "You go back on your word. You're a liar, a scoundrel. Why on earth should I believe you?" She grumbled and he grinned, taunting her with gentle yet forceful touches to her sore arms. "Because if you don't get her before the dogs, you'll bleed once again and in a far less pleasant way than a moons blood. Go on. At the very least slow her down with a simple flesh wound."

Flesh wound? She could do that, maybe. It was frowned upon to have a lady such as herself use a deadly weapon, but with seven older brothers, how could she of not learned to do such? With disgust at him and herself rearing its ugly head inside her, she pulled the notch back, and let the brutal device loose.

An answering scream echoed in response and she knew that this time, she'd hit her target, albeit unwillingly but with the threat of looming abuse being whispered in her ear by the devil himself, better the one who'd murdered her baby than she herself.

He clapped her shoulders with a delighted chuckle. "Well done, Callidora. Shall we go see the result of your hunt?"

 _Her hunt_... Oh God. He was playing another of his sick, twisted games. Make her do his dirty work for him. Bile curdled in her stomach as he led her to where her victim, albeit not an innocent one, laid in the water of the small stream, tears streaming down her face and the arrow protruding cruelly from her thigh, the area around it bright red with blood.

"Look at her, tears of pain coming down her face. Isn't that similar to what you looked like not too long ago," his smirk turned darker as he put his hand on her cheek. He was putting on a show, and although she wanted no part in it, she was too terrified to move. "My beautiful wife."

She shuddered at that supposedly endearing term, but there was nothing but lies behind it. He turned to the sobbing girl once again. "And now you choose. You either end it by putting an arrow in her chest, or I make it as painful as possible and set the dogs on her." The said animals gave a distinct growling snarl beside him and he lowered his hand, the growling abating immediately.

"I don't want to do this anymore," was her broken, whispered answer and he moved in front if her, those blue eyes holding false sympathy. "And do you think she had the same thought as she poured that horrible concoction into your morning tea? No," he said with a growing, dangerous smile and she shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes and trickling down her cheeks. "No, she didn't. So, tell me what you decide, and I'll make sure she suffers during it. But either way, Kira here is breathing her last."

The said girl cried out in response and Callidora looked to the ground, his smirk widening. "Well, it looks as though I have my answer then." The answering screams were soon replaced with the wet sound of tearing flesh and her knees buckled beneath her as the cries stopped, his arm around her wait holding her up against him as she let her grief go.

"There, there," he soothed mockingly, a gloved hand smoothing harshly over her head. "There'll be more pregnancies to come with my sons at the end, and then, once you want it to all be over, I'll make sure I'm the one to end it for you." He breathed and her eyes burned with silent tears. She was doomed.


	14. Chapter 14

Her thighs were painted red with blood and darkening bruises by the time he rolled off of her, her once tearful eyes now blank and emotionless. He stared up at the ceiling with the same smug, arrogant look. "Shouldn't be long now." He said out loud and she frowned. "It took eight moons last time and I hope it takes twice as long this time." She mumbled, turning away from him. "I heard a rumour that Marcellus armies are going after Winterfell before you can get to it."

He regarded her with interest. "Is that so? Quite stupid of them, to be frank. I'm going to flay those I find at Winterfell, and where the iron-born scum are is first to go. And you'll watch as they scream too. Might teach you a lesson or two about your place."

She stiffened. "I know my place. I'm nothing more than a mare, a vessel for you to create your heirs in. I understand, Ramsay, but I don't like that or you, for that matter. I hope Marcellus armies do get Winterfell, and I hope my brothers place your head on a pole. That would be a lifetime of names days rolled into one." She sneered, an uncontrollable anger spreading though her like fire.

A smirk twisted his face. "And perhaps I'll give you Nathanial's head instead after I've peeled his flesh from his bones. You can't and won't win this war, Callidora. I have a reputation as a Bolton to uphold."

"You might of been legitimatized, but in my eyes, you'll forever be a Snow, not a Bolton." She jabbed at one of his weak points and he glared at her with venom unlike she'd ever seen before -it actually scared her quite a bit. "Is that so? One can't control his heritage or birth circumstances, Callidora. But I can control the heirs that you'll birth for me. Within a few years of their first breath, you'll be gone, your memories will be gone and I will raise them how I see fit."

She glowered at him. "You're a cruel, awful man and people like you don't win." She choked out and he smirked wider before plunging the room into darkness. "But this one will."

* * *

It was strange, having been with child and now not with such. Maester Wolkan would've been able to have an inkling as to what she was having from how she carried the said child by now, had the woman -Kira- not poisoned her tea. Something struck her as odd though. Kira had no access to her breakfast when it was being brought up, and she'd certainly never seen her before the time in the woods.

Strange.

She read the tome silently, balancing the large book on her bruised knees. Now she wasn't pregnant, he cared little for the pain she endured during his assaults of her body. He just used her like a steed would a mare.

A soft sigh left her sore lips. It was darkening outside and he would be here soon. She dreaded these times. It was a gamble, really. He could be in a somewhat pleasant mood and he wouldn't hurt her as much as he did, or he could be in a foul mood and paint her thighs with red blood and purple, almost black bruises. It was just a gamble, a game she didn't like.

And sure enough, not even an hour later, those heavy booted footsteps echoes down the corridor along with the mocking clanking of the door keys. She didn't bother to look up as he walked in, her eyes skimming over the ancient, handwritten pages of a senile woman's babbling. "Must you bore me so?" He drawled and she hummed. "If I didn't, life wouldn't be interesting, would it? Whose poor life did you take now? You seem more cheerful of sorts than usual."

He smirked. "I flayed a troublesome lord who wouldn't pay his taxes and then I raped his daughter. I had a good day."

Her lip curled in disgust at how proudly he admitted both, the latter more than the former. "And what did you do with the poor girl afterwards?" She asked calmly and he tugged her chin up so she was looking at him. "None of your concern, Callidora. What are you busying yourself with then? Another sorrowing journal of ones woes?"

"Does it matter? I'm keeping myself occupied and I'm not bothering you. You win either way." She replied slowly and he smirked a little darker. "I'm about to keep you occupied for the rest of the evening." He glanced back at the table and her barely eaten dinner. "And you haven't eaten."

She tugged herself from his grasp and walked over to the open window that overlooked the courtyard. "Last time I ate something, or drank it for that matter, I was poisoned and you lost your first heir. Can you blame me for not wanting to eat something delivered to this room? It might be belladonna next time, who knows. And Kira didn't have access to my breakfast, did she?"

He had been walking over to her but paused at that. "No, come to think of it, she didn't." He gripped her wrist, none to gentle either, and turned her to face him. "Did you have someone slip that tonic into it?" He asked in a low and dangerous voice.

Before she had a chance to think about the consequences and before he could react and stop her, her hand slapped across his face. "I would never kill a child!" She snapped, eyes brimming with painful tears as her bottom lip quivered weakly. "I mightn't of wanted to be pregnant with your child, but that wouldn't give me cause to kill it! I'm not _you_."

Burning blue eyes looked at her and he grabbed her throat, slamming her head against the wall. "I wouldn't do that again, Callidora. One might just press a little too hard," he demonstrated and she spluttered as he did so, her fingernails digging into his hand and drawing blood as a result of such. The sight of the red fluid made a cruel smile adorn his face and he flexed his hand around her throat, letting her get some air to her lungs.

"A broken neck might happen it I were to increase the force. Maybe that's how I'll kill you in the end." He mused and she gripped his wrist. "Is this how you feel powerful because you'll always be second best to your father?" She choked out and he dropped her, her trembling hand immediately coming up to massage her no doubt soon bruised throat.

"Maybe you'll find out how a broken neck feels a lot sooner than expected if you keep up this insolent attitude. I won't stand for it, Callidora. I might like a good fight, but that doesn't mean I want one from you every time you open that pretty mouth of yours. Maybe I should show you how it'll be used if you disrespect me." He quipped, wiping the blood from the back of his hand with a dark smile. So she was capable of violence then.

"But the tonic in the tea? I would never do that." She gasped out, eyes watering still. She wiped her tears from her red cheeks and moved her red hair over her shoulder. "Killing an innocent child who didn't ask to be here? I defended my castle from murderers and rapists, not innocent children. I could never kill a child." She whispered as she steadied her breathing.

He studied her for a moment before crouching beside her. His injured hand gripped her chin so she was looking at him. "And you didn't have a brother of yours smuggle something in, did you?" He pressed and she shook her head slowly. "Apart from that letter that I didn't answer, I haven't had contact with them at all as much as I would love to. I haven't spoken, seen or read a letter from them since the last letter someone smuggled in from them, I swear." She swore and he raised a brow. "And if I were to have some of my boys search this room?"

"They'd find nothing other than what is meant to be here and what you know is here. I'm not lying. Lying just brings me more pain than I want."

He seemed to be satisfied somewhat with her answer for he gave her a quick, studious look and then straightened himself, pulling her up and he gripped her chin once more. "If I find out you're lying to me, Callidora, these night encounters will be the least of your worries. Do you understand? And on the subject of such an encounter, I came up here to ask you to attend a feast tomorrow, a beforehand celebration of sorts as we ride for Moat Cailin at sunrise afterwards. It would be rude not to ask you to join me, after all."

He spoke with the mockery of a young lord and she resisted the urge to sneer at him. How rude of him? He was jesting, correct? "And I'm to be grateful to be out of this prison you call your chambers, correct?" She sighed and turned her back to him, looking at the small flurries of snow that were coming through the window.

A hand gripped her red hair and teeth scraped over her jugular. "Quite right, my dear, dear wife." He breathed while reaching for the ties of her nightgown. She just stared out of the window at the melting snow, her eyes blank as he pulled her hips back slightly. If only she could be outside in that pureness than in this prison of a room, she would be the most grateful person in the world.

He didn't spare her at all, and she sensed it was partly because of the fact she'd been slightly, well, mostly disrespectful to him. He marred her once flawless skin with teeth marks and he darkened her hips with dark purple splotching bruises. He seemed to be taking his annoyance and irritation out on her, painting her skin with painful marks as he moved a little more harder, fresh, pain filled winces ripping from her lips as he showed her other places that could be torn. Tears blurred her eyes at that point and she sobbed, his answering grin making her cry all the more.


	15. Chapter 15

The feast was a dull affair, and she was beyond surprised when they got back to his chambers as he didn't move to force himself on her as quick as he normally did. He instead went to light the fire and she frowned. "You seem different." She mused and his response was a sharp chuckle. "I'm simply cold, Callidora. No need to fret. Reek has been placed in the kennels, where he belongs."

Her mouth thinned. "His name is Theon, not the disgusting name you traumatized him into calling himself." She muttered and he glanced back at her with amused yet cool blue eyes. "Is that so? You seem rather outspoken tonight. Should I change that for you?"

She looked away from him and sighed. "And what will happen after you take Winterfell? Rule and govern the North from its epicentre and impose your rule on those who disregard it?" She wondered out loud and he stood up from where he'd been crouched, slinging his cloak over the back of a chair. "Why so inquisitive?" He quipped, watching as she began to unlace her dress.

Her shoulders shrugged. "Merely curious. Are you going to murder my brothers in cold blood?" She whispered with a bowed head and he showed her a cruel smile. "That depends entirely on them." He replied simply and she frowned, turning to face him with her ties unlaced. "And what do you mean by that exactly?" She whispered quietly.

A smirk tore at his lips. "If they accept what your fate is or not. You are my wife, my possession. You belong to me, and you have a simple task in which you will give me heirs until I see fit to stop and to put you out of the torment that will be your life. If they want to make a chaotic fuss about it, then I will quieten such a nuisance and so will my father. I'll use you how I see fit, Callidora."

She turned away from him with an angry sigh. "And what will you do if they don't protest it and they let you and your father be?" She asked and he hummed distantly, hands grabbing the remaining ties of her dress and tearing them apart, tearing the rest of her dress down the back. She moved uncomfortably, trying not to show him how repulsed she was by him. It wasn't that he wasn't somewhat appealing, because if he wasn't such a cruel, sadistic man, there would of been some appeal, but because he was, he made her skin crawl.

"I will take all seven of them, and I will take my very valuable time flaying each of them, starting with Nathanial, your twin brother. I heard that a select few pairs of twins feel each others pain." He moved those disgusting lips over her bare shoulder and over her throat, tears welling up in her eyes. "And if they protest and attempt to rescue me from you?" She breathed.

"Then I will leave them to live out their lives free from us, but you'll never see them again." He added on one last cruel, biting blow that had her eyes filling with moisture, and when he grabbed her tight enough to leave bruises, she simply closed her eyes and let her emotions vanish as quick as the snow outside was melting.

* * *

They had _tricked_ the iron-born at Moat Cailin into surrendering, and it didn't make her feel good as she walked outside with a guard, the snow falling thick and fast around her as she pulled her gloves on tighter. It was cold yet pleasant -it soothed her aching limbs anyways. Her breath fogged the air and she paled as she saw the victorious smirk on Ramsay's face. "You have Winterfell under your control, don't you?" Was her weary question.

His grin widened. "Quite. We have a lot of work to do, my wife. My men captured some iron-born scum at Winterfell and they're being held in the dungeons there. I think we have to set an example, don't you?"

She supressed her scowl as someone lifted her onto her mare, snow falling in heaps from her shoulders. "And am I to be subjected to watching once again?" She murmured as he mounted his own steed beside her. A wicked smirk was directed at her. "It depends on how you behave during the ride to Winterfell. You keep your mouth shut and merely listen, and I won't make you watch. But if you disrespect me, and I won't be so forgiving this time, then you shall watch as I skin all twenty that were captured."

So quiet she was, eyes on the freshly fallen snow that was soon destroyed by the patrol of men and herself that were making their way to where the once empire of the North had been, and were its innocence would be tainted by screams and wails of the men and women and children that would soon fill the air of the magnificent fortress.

But a loud horn shattered the peace that was in her head and she whipped her head around just as they were nearing the gates of Winterfell. And what she saw made her whole year of captivity that she'd been tortured in.

The banner of Marcellus made her smile widely, the first smile she'd done in months. And it didn't amuse the man beside her. "Get in," he all but snarled at her and she startled, a small, smug smile still playing at her mouth even as he all but dragged her to where she recognised as the main bed chambers of Winterfell. "You did this!"

Her head shook. "I actually had no idea at all they were planning this, and even if I had of know, which I didn't, I would never, ever of told you. How does it feel? They're going to demand me back, and only half of the Bolton armies are here. You're doomed, Ramsay. And I hope they come and take me away from you." She hissed and then yelped as he gripped her hair tighter than he'd ever done before.

"No?" He said smoothly. "I can make you so crippled that childbirth will be the least of your worries. I heard stories about women who bled to death during such a time. Perhaps I'll see how it goes. But let me tell you something, Callidora. There is no situation where you come out as the victor, where you win and you escape me or this life. You run?" He chuckled as though it were a private joke. "I'll hunt you down as I did before. You escape and hide behind one of your brothers or all of them? I'll cut those between myself and you down, including your pathetic siblings."

She scowled and attempted to twist herself free of his grasp. He merely smiled with false, amused pleasantries and tightened his grip. Her answer was a soft cry. "You can't even free yourself now. Give me a reason why I shouldn't send my three thousand men out to face your brothers two thousand? We have the numbers by half over him, and I do believe I saw Nathanial amongst them."

That changed everything and tears welled up in her moss green eyes. "Please," she whispered, her smugness gone. Nathanial couldn't die. "Please don't kill him. I'm _begging_ you."

His answering smile was smug and dark. "That's more like it, isn't it?" He drawled and he loosened his grip a little. "What will you do to change my mind? I'm going to send Bolton forces into battle midday tomorrow once I have my fathers approval. What will you do to change my mind?"

She trembled in his grasp. "I don't understand," she whispered, tears leaking down her face.

"Yes you do. Show me how much you don't want me to murder your twin brother, your beloved Nathanial." One hand released her hair and went down to her waist. No, he wasn't suggesting that, was he? She shook her head. "No, I won't surrender myself to you like that." She whispered and he chuckled darkly. "Then I should assume that I will be peeling Nathanial's skin from his bones tomorrow then?"

She shook her head again and his grin widened. "Then you have no other option, do you? You can either give me what _I_ want, or I will take great pleasure in skinning your twin brother alive while you watch."

Her mind raced at a mile a minute. He could be lying, and to be completely honest with herself, which was worse -her wounded pride and the fact she'd lowered herself to him and betrayed her brothers, or the thought of her twin, her everything, dying in the cruellest way possible. She couldn't let him die.

He seemed to know her answer for he released her with a smug smirk. "And I'll even be generous. I'll give you until sunset to decide, and it'll let me sort out this mess that is your brothers interference. Do think very hard, of course."

With one final, mocking, taunting kiss to her cheek, he slipped past her and out of the room, the lock apparently locking behind her. So he had found the keys to lock her up once more. She had to escape somehow. Maybe she could distract him and take the key from him while he slept.

* * *

He came back when he said he would, the sky darkening outside as it was painted with hues or red and amber. He placed the chain of keys onto the small table that was in the room -the room itself seemed identical to the one at The Dreadfort.

"You've had plenty of time to ponder over your decision. So, what will it be? Are you going to do what a wife should or must I make an example out of your brother?" He said it cruelly and she looked at her shaking hands. "You won't hurt Nathanial? Or any of the others?" She whispered and he smirked. "Not unless they start something they can't mend afterwards."

She nodded mutely, eyes fixed on her violently shaking hands. He came to a standstill in front of her and he gripped her chin, redirecting her eyes to his face instead. "I'll even let you take your anger out on me. How does that sound?" He said with a dark smirk and she looked away, feeling his hands begin to slowly unlace the sleeves on her dress, and then after he'd got those undone, he stepped back with a dangerous glint in his blue eyes. "You do the rest."

Willing herself to be strong and not sick at his feet, she reached for the ties on the front on her dress, tears stinging her eyes. Was this how cruel he could make her do the ultimate betrayal? She didn't know, but as her dress slipped off her shoulders once she'd gotten the lacing undone, he moved back forward and sent it rippling to the ground.

Everything blurred after that. She found herself over him for the first time, and the feeling of him invading her so deep had her grimacing. She didn't like this, and if anything, she hated this infinitely more so than when he forced himself onto her. Dark, surprisingly unguarded eyes stared back at her and she swallowed nervously, rage soon filling her. He wanted her to take her frustrations out on him? Yeah, she could do that.

Eyes burning hatefully -which he saw-, she leaned down and trying not to be sick, she pressed her mouth to his. He responded immediately and a blood stained hand rested in her hair, keeping her pressed to him. And before she had time to think, she bit down and sank her teeth into his lower lip.

The awful taste of blood filled her mouth and he hissed in response, pulling back and placing his thumb over the bleeding spot. Dark eyes looked to her and she looked at him angrily but smugly at the same time. "Serves you right." She seethed and he smirked. She was falling right into his trap.

"That wasn't very nice." He muttered and she hummed, squeezing her eyes shut at the unwelcome but not entirely unpleasant feelings he was making her feel. She grimaced and he noticed it. "So far, I'm not impressed, Callidora. I might just have to murder Nathanial." He said out loud and horrified eyes snapped open to look at him. "No," she whispered.

"Then show me how much you want him to live," he reminded and with a lump in her throat, she began to do that which disgusted her.


	16. Chapter 16

He was keeping his word, so far at least. He hadn't sent his men out to attack, and her last and final chance for escape was slowly slipping from within her reach each moment that passed. She needed to get out of here, and the chance came when she had least expected it.

She frowned as an unfamiliar man burst into the room, a Bolton house shield strapped to his back. When he made to grab her, she recoiled back and frowned deeper. "Who the hell are you?" She exclaimed and he pulled off his helmet. Her eyes widened a little. "Aurelio?" She whispered, getting up off the bed immediately and grabbing her cloak from the chair. "How on earth did you get in here?" She yelled in a whisper.

Nathanial's right hand man grinned, albeit a little nervously. "And I'll tell you as soon as we get you back to Nathanial and the rest of them. Come on, princess. We don't have long." He said hurriedly, pulling her cloak hood over her head. "There's two horses waiting outside the walls and we only have a short amount of time before someone notices that you're missing."

He rushed her out of the room and she followed, eyes wide and terrified as her heart pounded in her ears. If they were to be caught, those horrible acts she'd gone through the night previous would all be for nothing. So she kept her head down and followed close behind him, heart pounding so fast she thought it'd burst out of her chest.

Things were smoother than normal as they walked through the courtyard, passing numerous soldiers but none spared them a glance. Ramsay spent most of his time either with a whore or in his study, a room in the broken tower now acting as such. She could see a faint glow coming from the tower -he was in there. At least he wasn't able to see where they'd be going to.

But someone else would. When they went across the battlements, the one person she hated just as much as the monster himself came between them and her freedom. She stared at the tip of the arrow that was aimed at her face. Aurelio moved and she stared at the woman.

"My lady, I've come to escort you back to your chambers." Myranda said with a smug smile and Callidora paled. "You poisoned my tea, didn't you? Had Kira take the blame?" She whispered and the arrow was lowered, Reek too lowering his head behind her. "Of course. She was such an easier person to blame, and she had been gossiping about doing it too. The opportunity presented itself, and I took it." She replied simply.

Pain seared though her and she blinked back the tears. "Does he know?"

"Of course not, and he won't either, will he?" She said with a light laugh. "After he discovers you've tried to escape, he won't believe you, will he? Not that he does anyway."

"If I'm going to die," Callidora whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. "Then at least let me die with my dignity left."

"Die?" The other woman said with a false, pleasant smile. "Oh no. You're an heir to the North as much as the Starks are, my lady. He needs you to solidify his hold on the North, but I suppose, after you've given him an heir or two, he'll have no use for you. So he won't need all of you, just the parts required to give him his heirs." She raised the arrow again, this time pointing it at Aurelio. "And he'll take great pleasure in making an example out of you before going after her brothers."

And as she went to let loose the arrow, the man behind her surprised her by grabbing the spiteful woman and despite hearing her pleas, he threw her off the battlement and onto the hard, cold stone underneath. A sickening crunch followed. Callidora peered off the side, eyes wide as she saw the red pool of crimson blood expanding beneath her.

And as if the situation couldn't get any worse, the bells of Winterfell began to toll, signalling her escape. She saw the light in the tower go out abruptly and Aurelio seized her hand. "You must come with us." He told the still broken man and he shook his head. "No, you go." He said slowly. "I c-can't leave. Go, go!" He urged before vanishing off somewhere and Aurelio tightened his grip while he began to rush her up onto the second series of much higher up battlements.

"I'll jump first and then I'll catch you. You alright?" He rushed and she nodded numbly, climbing up onto the stone wall beside him. "What if he catches us before we make it back to Nathanial?" She whispered and he turned to face her with a grim look. "Do you want to remain here and find out?" He asked back and she shook her head immediately.

He jumped and she saw him impact the snow below and he came up within a second -so the shield was good for something then. She hesitated and he gave her an impatient look. The sound of feet running along the battlements reached her and taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she jumped too.

The cold air rushed around her and like he'd promised, he caught her with ease, wincing a little as he did. Must have sprained his back. He placed her down and took a hold of her hand, not wasting a single second before he started to pull her in the direction of a cluster of trees. "Nathanial had them tethered over here. We don't have long." He rambled and she nodded, setting sight on two mares immediately. He ran over to them, taking hold of her waist and lifting her up to saddle one. "Go on ahead. I'll be there in a mere moment. Nathanial is waiting for you."

She went to protest but he gave the horses behind a sharp slap, sending it off galloping at full speed. She barely had time to take a hold of the reins before it did so. Snow flew around her and a muffled cry behind her made her glance back, eyes widening in horror as she saw Aurelio collapse to the ground. The monster was standing over him, his devilish grin making tears fall down her face. He was cruel beyond belief.

" _Callidora_!"

That shout of her name made a slight relief surge within her and she saw the approaching duo, the right hand side one making a smile, albeit a petrified one, come across her face. She glanced back, eyes widening in horror at the fact the monster had his bow. He might not be the best one during a verbal battle, but she knew from experience he was a fine marksman and she didn't like the fact he was aiming directly at her.

The horse beneath her suddenly crumpled to the ground with a high pitched scream, sending her sprawling to the ground. Snow went down into places she'd rather it not be. She bounded up immediately, panic searing though her. How was she meant to escape now?

A sharp whistle made her turn back to where her brother was coming from and he'd leaned down slightly on his steed, arm stretched out as he raced towards her. She got the message instantly, her feet beginning to run against the thick snow. She could hear the Bolton armies getting themselves ready for battle in the distance, what with the clanking of thousands of men putting on their armour.

And bliss. Her cold hand met his leather gloved one and with ease, he lifted her up. She moulded herself to him in an instance, tears trickling down her face as he abruptly turned around, racing back to where her Born House of Marcellus awaited, the men lined up in straight lines as though they'd been placed strategically there. And all she could think was freedom, that sweet, longed for freedom from the monster.


	17. Chapter 17

Bolton forces hadn't made a move since she'd managed to escape three nights ago, but they were keeping a close watch, and from the tent where she was staying most of her time in, she had seen a small party of maybe two dozen men enter Winterfell the night previous to the current one. Roose had no doubt arrived. Just great, and then to make matters worse, she'd seen a good thousand extra men appear within the night.

They were expanding their forces.

Nathanial strode into the main tent, a makeshift war room. He had a letter clenched tight in his grasp and she paled. "Is it from him?" She asked quietly, fidgeting with her leather gloves, pulling them off and then putting them back on over and over again.

He unrolled it with furious, shaking hands before beginning to read.

" _To the insolent House of Marcellus. You stole my bride, your sister, from within my walls, and you killed my men in doing so. Winterfell belongs to House Bolton, and you can't take it from us. I will pardon you for going against me, and I will pardon the houses of the lords who've sided with you against us. I want my bride back. Send her back to me, traitor, and I will not slaughter the men you've foolishly brought to fight against us. I will not go and invade your other strongholds and slaughter your siblings, their wives and their children. Send her back to me or I will devastate your armies. I will make you watch as our men take turns raping your sister. I will make her watch as I flay you, only stopping to rape her before you. And then when you beg for it to be over, I will let my dogs devour you. Come and see, Nathanial, come and see._ "

She gaped at him in horror. "He doesn't jest, Nathanial." She whispered and he glared at the paper that the mocking and hateful words were written on. "And you think I don't know that? He got you pregnant, Callie! Pregnant! And because of his whore, you lost it! Everything bad has happened because of the bastard and his worthless, vile father!"

"I fought him, and then the night before you had Aurelio, may he rest in peace, rescue me, he tricked me into giving myself willingly to him. I did it because I thought that if I pleased him, he wouldn't hurt you! And he wasn't going to until you took me! I degraded myself and it was for nothing and he's going to kill you and me eventually." She exclaimed, her voice falling to a whisper.

He paused. "You gave yourself to him?" He said lowly and she looked at her feet. "Not willingly. I either had a choice -he would skin you while I was made to watch, or I could give myself to him for that one night. I chose to save you over my pride." She muttered.

She refused to look at him until he made her look, his eyes showing nothing but kindness. "And you'll never have to do it again, ever." He swore and she smiled back slightly. "I hope so, because I won't be going back alive, Nathanial. I won't go back alive."

* * *

And so to meet his opponent, Nathanial arranged to meet, and once she'd heard, Callidora said she'd come along. She kept her face blank as a small party of men approached, the monster leading them. She shifted nervously, tightening her grip on the reins. "You don't have to be here." Nathanial reminded.

Steeling herself as they came closer, she let out a soft breath. There was a number of lords from different houses behind them. "Yes I do." She whispered.

The monster moved in front of all the others, Roose not amongst them. He must have left during the night, having left things to his now apparent legitimatized son. She stared at him as strongly as she could, which wasn't very strongly at all. He smirked. "My beloved wife. I've missed you terribly."

She looked away at that, and then he turned his attention to her brother. "Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely to me." He said with false pleasantries. "Now dismount, surrender, and I won't flay you after decimating your armies."

When Nathanial didn't, he continued to speak. "Come now, Nathanial. You don't have the men, and the rest of your armies are a week away fighting for the Nightwatch and to defend your strongholds from both Lannister and Iron born scum armies. And you don't have the horses or Winterfell for that matter. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? Get off your horse, and _kneel_. I'm a man of mercy."

Nathanial curled his bottom lip at that. "A man of mercy?" He scoffed. "You invaded my birthplace, you slaughtered thousands if its inhabitants, you raped and beat my sister, my twin sister, and you think yourself merciful? You're as merciful as a snake."

Ramsay merely smiled arrogantly. "Perhaps, maybe. But you read my letter. You know what I'm going to do if you don't surrender, Nathanial. Are you willing to put your sister though such torment?"

"You're right." Nathanial quipped, glancing at Callidora before looking back at Ramsay. "Thousands of men don't need to die, but I'm willing to guess that thousands won't fight for you when they discover that you won't do the same for them."

She watched as anger swept across the monsters face and then seemed to vanish into nothing. "And I know my men will beat yours. Come now, Nathanial. I have five thousand men here with me and they'll fight tomorrow. You have what, half that?"

It was a game, a game she didn't like one little bit. She glanced anxiously at Nathanial. Her brother looked angered. "And like I said, how many men will fight for you when they find out that you and your worthless, old man of a father won't fight for them?"

That made the fury return and this time it remained. "You're good, very good." He spat before moving his angered gaze to Callidora. "But tell me something, Nathanial -are you willing to let your sister pay the price for your attitude? I will take her back, half dead or alive." He warned.

"Now, if you want to say som-" Callidora cut him off. "You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton." She said coolly. He turned to look at her with an almost surprised look that she'd spoke up for the first time. "Sleep well." She finished before turning around on her horse with a scowl and racing off, urging her mare into picking up speed.

Ramsay watched as she rode off and then turned back to Nathanial. "She's a fine woman, your sister." He drawled. "I look forward to having her back in my bed."

Nathanial narrowed his eyes furiously as Ramsay continued to mock them. "And you're all fine looking men! My dogs are desperate to meet you -I haven't fed them since my wife managed to escape. Crafty little thing, isn't she? But I do wonder what parts my dogs will go for first? Your eyes, perhaps? Your balls! We'll find out soon enough. In the morning then, traitor."


	18. Chapter 18

She stared out over the snow covered hills, the sounds of the men preparing for battle making her cringe inwardly although her face was as blank as the white sheet that covered the land around her. But cold tears dripped down her cheeks as she stared over the pure surroundings.

She couldn't let him go into battle -they didn't have the men, and his life had to be spared. He had to go get more troops, he had to. But he wouldn't if she was still on his side of the battlefield.

This was it -she had to go back. More devastated, gut wrenching tears dripped down her cheeks. What would await her? Surely he wouldn't kill her. But would he? She shuddered. He would lock her away once and for all now, despite the fact it wasn't she who had planned such an escape -it didn't matter though to him.

She had willingly gone, and that would be more than enough cause for the bastard who was no doubt watching across the field, looking for her. A few more tears leaked from her eyes and she sniffed, wiping them away as her breath fogged in the cold air. It was an unbearable thing to think about.

The truth was, that for Nathanial to live and not be subject to an awful, painful death, she had to make herself the sacrificial lamb instead. That was absolutely not what she had wanted. Aurelio would have died in vain, all these men would -Ramsay wouldn't just let them retreat. He and his father would want to make a statement.

 _This is what happens when you dare to attack House Bolton_...

She had to leave before the battle began, and she had to write a letter to Nathanial. How poetic, after all.

* * *

By the time he found the letter, she was already walking across the thickly snow covered field that was between both Houses of the North, a heavy dusting of the wet powdery stuff already covering her cloaked shoulders. He rushed out of his tent, the letter clutched in his hand, the ink starting to smudge in the cold.

" _Callidora_!"

She turned, eyes tearful and weak willed. On the opposite side of the clearing, the monster beckoned two men with a curl of his fingers. "Go get her before someone can get her or she changes her mind." He ordered, watching the scene unfold with a devilish smirk. She would always come back...

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, not sure if he had seen what she'd said. But he just looked at her with a frantic desperation that told her he'd found her letter, that he'd read her plan, that he knew the danger she was walking into.

"I'm sorry," she whispered this time as the men whom the monster had sent grabbed her tight, not caring for her wellbeing, only doing what they were ordered to do -bring her back before she changed her mind or anyone changed it for her for that matter.

She refused to look at him as he dismounted beside her. "You look cold, my dear wife." He mused, eyes flickering smugly up and down her trembling form. She looked at him as bravely as she could, willing him not to see the fear she possessed for him. But he saw it and trailed a gloved hand down her face. It was all a façade and she knew it, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I'll have you warm soon enough." And there it was -the underlying threat of rape. She shuddered inwardly, closing her eyes as tears leaked from them and down her rosy cheeks. He glanced at the two men who still held her. "Take my wife to my chambers. I'll be there after this mess is dealt with."

* * *

He came like a thunderous storm when the sky had long turned dark, his fury and his rage and his anger written clearly across his face. She didn't even have time to send a bitter remark to him before he gripped her hair, dragging her to her feet. "Where did you tell Nathanial to go?" He spat, eyes burning hatefully. "Where did you tell that little traitor that is your brother to go and cower?"

She kept her mouth shut and he smirked cruelly. "No? You can either tell me, Callidora, or I'll find a way to extract the information from you."

Her eyes widened but she still kept quiet and he chuckled. "Beat it out of you it is then."

She didn't even have time to blink before he gripped her throat and almost instantly, bright spots and dark ones danced before her eyes, her mind beginning to shut down. She couldn't breathe and her hand clawed at his, eyes beginning to slide shut, but as soon as he saw that, his hand released her and she sank down to the cold stone floor, her eyes watering.

"I told him to go get more men." She whispered and he smiled widely, crouching beside her and chuckling as she flinched away from him. "Is that so? So you gave yourself up to give him a fighting chance then, hm? Too bad that when he comes back, you'll be heavy with my heir, isn't it?"

She shuddered beneath his touch, her instincts wanting her to rip him apart and show him the same cruelty he'd shown her. But instead she shakily met his smug glare and nodded, terrified. "Yes."


	19. Chapter 19

She nudged her food around her plate, not looking at him as he ate his as though he hadn't eaten in months. He glanced at her. "You aren't going to eat now? Hoping to starve to death?"

She shrugged. "Would it matter regardless?" She quipped as she placed her fork down and tried not to wince as the marks on her thighs throbbed in response to her movement.

"Of course it would." He said simply. "You need to be strong to give me my heirs. Eat." He gestured to her untouched plate of food and she shook her head. "Not tonight, lest you want the regurgitated form to cover your floor. I just want to sleep." She replied quietly and he placed his fork down too, leaning back to stare at her with a cocky smirk. "And you can, afterwards you do your wifely duties."

Her jaw clenched at that and he saw it. "You really shouldn't make faces like that, you know. It makes you look older than you are and it isn't very appealing whatsoever." He admonished and she looked away from him. "I don't want to be raped tonight." She mumbled but he heard regardless and he chuckled harshly. "And what you want doesn't matter, Callidora. You said those words that sealed your fate last year. You shouldn't of said them."

That made her furious. "And I was kidnapped and forced to say those lying words! I didn't want to be married, least of all to a man whose sadistic and enjoys tearing someone's skin off! I was quite happy being a virgin and being courted by possible suitors. I never wanted you." She hissed, getting up and shoving herself away from the table. He just watched with a smirk. _He liked it when she let her temper get the better of her_...More reason to punish her.

"Well, its too late now, isn't it? So, are you going to give a fight this evening, or will you let me take what is mine?"

* * *

And so came the rage. She lost count how many times she fainted during his raging assault, being brought to by him hitting her. She trembled after the monster rolled off of her, not being able to sleep while he did. She couldn't tell him about what Theon had done for her, not once, not ever. He would do more than castrate him and flay one little finger.

She was still awake when he woke up in the morn, alert but tired moss green eyes looking to his awakening blue ones. He took in how tired she was with a dull smirk. "You didn't sleep." He mused smugly, moving the pelts back to observe her battered and bruised abdomen. She turned her head from him as he put his hands in places that they didn't belong.

"No," she murmured. "I was thinking about things that don't concern you." She said, turning her head back to look at him. "You don't control what I think." She murmured.

"But I control what you do." He replied simply and she sighed, gripping his wrist and pulling his hand from her with much difficulty. "Perhaps, but you can't control the gender of the child you'll no doubt and hopefully not get me pregnant with. I hope its a girl, not a boy."

"And if it is, then I'll simply get you pregnant again, and again, and again. You won't be able to rest in between such pregnancies. I want those sons from you, Callidora, and you simply have no choice about it."

* * *

 **-Just a filler chapter.**


	20. Chapter 20

Her face twisted into a grimace as she rubbed at her chest, the prickling sensation there making the area uncomfortable beyond belief. It was alike nothing she'd ever felt before, and it wasn't pleasant at all. A sigh left her lips as she laced up her dress at the front. It wasn't as if she was going to get out of the room, but it was better than sleeping in a nightgown that he could have unhindered access to her through.

Her stomach curdled as she glanced over at her breakfast that was now freezing cold porridge. The mere smell of such food made her want to vomit for days. And so she merely didn't touch it.

* * *

He saw that when he came to her in the evening and she didn't look at him from where she sat in front of the dying fire, her long red hair shielding her face from his piercing blue eyed gaze. "You didn't eat again." He mused.

She hummed, a slight shiver running through her as a bitter wind blew into the room. She took hold of the poker and prodded the glowing embers and sighed. "I think I have a chill." She informed him and he raised a brow as he took a seat behind her on a wooden chair. "Not just saying to get out of laying under me?"

"No, I don't lie like you." She quipped and he smirked slightly behind her. "We'll see. Any other feelings I should be made aware of?"

"Other than hate? No." She grumbled, placing the poker down. "I just want to go to sleep and you insist on raping me instead of letting me do so." She looked at him. "Will you please just let me sleep for tonight? I just want to get some sleep, uninterrupted sleep, for once." She pleaded and he gestured to the bed with a smug smirk. "The bed is there. I'm not stopping you from getting sleep."

She eyed him warily as she stood up, her nightgown -which she'd changed into before he came into the room- pooling at her feet. She skirted past him, keeping out of his reach. She was just about to climb into bed when he spoke up. "You never asked me if I was a liar." He said with a certain breeziness and she halted in an instance, hearing him get up from the chair behind her. The clinking of his belt made her want to scream in despair.

"Because I know you're a liar." She whispered and he chuckled behind her, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades and pushing her against the bed. She squeezed her eyes shut. "Why must you do this?" She whispered and he paused, fingers flexing around her waist. She shook as he leaned down so his mouth was hovering beside her ear. "Because I can."

* * *

She slept till the sun was high in the sky, and he noticed it too. She blinked sleepily and pushed away the bowl that was being placed directly under her nose. The smell curdled her stomach and she pushed past him just in time for bile to burn her throat, wretches ripping from her as the awful liquid exited her mouth. She coughed violently, covering her mouth with the back of her hand,

"Well, I didn't expect that. No broth then?" He replied simply, placing the smoking bowl on the small bedside table. She coughed again, turning away from him. "You're a bastard." She choked out, a thin sheen of sweat covering her brow.

"Why yes, I am, and I won't have you bringing it up again. So you lied to me when I asked you if anything was different last night?" He quipped while taking a seat on the bed and watching her with a slightly smug, knowing smirk.

She glanced at him for a moment before wiping her mouth for the last time. "I didn't lie." She snapped and he raised a brow. "You would assume a princess would have better mannerisms, or a lady for that manner." He admonished lightly and she coughed once again before straightening up with a weary look in her eyes. "Stop it. I'm not in the mood to play your mind games."

He chuckled. "And here I thought we were merely having a civilised conversation." He tilted his head slightly. "Do you have something to tell me, Callidora?"

She paled. "No, and I'm not doing this again." She swore and he smirked widely. "And what on earth will you do if you are pregnant, wife? You won't lose this heir of mine. Not even been back here for three moons and you could be pregnant." Now he was mocking her, mocking her while she was sick and tired.

Sick ad tired of his games was more like it.

"I doubt it. Can I sleep? And I don't mean after you've brutalized me." She asked back wearily, her mouth tasting bitter. He gestured to the bed beneath him and this time, she was beyond surprised when he actually let her, watching her with those cruel, blue eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

She was feeling no better three nights later, her meals reappearing of their own accord when she longed for them not to. And what seemed as false as his words, he didn't touch her once either. He just watched as she bathed and dressed, those piercing blue eyes making her uncomfortable and it wasn't in a nice way either.

The broth that was brought to her made her stomach curdle and she pushed it from her, her nose wrinkling at the smell. He watched and gave her the usual smug, sick smirk. "What ever is the matter?" He mocked and she looked from him. "You look quite peaky."

"I'm unwell." She mumbled and he made a feigning surprised face. "I would never of known that if the stench of vomit wasn't enough proof." He quipped plainly and she shot him an irritated look. "Get used to it. I doubt I'll become well overnight if it hasn't happened yet so perhaps you should allow me to have my own chambers so you don't have to put up with the stench of vomit then?"

He chuckled, cocking two fingers and beckoning her forward with a dangerous smirk. "Come here."

Not wanting to but knowing the consequences if she didn't, she dragged herself reluctantly over to him. He took hold of her waist and she tried not to scowl as he pulled her down onto his lap. But she did when his hands moved elsewhere. "I'm sick." She tried to protest and he grinned sadistically. "And I don't doubt that, but you still have a duty to me, and you haven't done such duties in three mornings and three nights."

She looked from him and he watched her expectantly. "Don't go quiet now, Callidora. Had you not of sent Myranda falling to her death I wouldn't be insisting on you like this." He admonished and that made her look back him. "She killed your heir, my child. It was justified, and you, caught up with the good fuck she gave you, no doubt, wouldn't of done anything. And I had no connection to her so yes, I sent her tumbling off the battlements and she screamed as she fell. And she was going to maim me with an arrow, so do forgive me if I wanted to keep all of me intact."

A smirk tore at his lips. "You don't miss anything, do you? Much like I didn't miss this." His hand moulded over her stomach and she tried to pull from him but he held on with an arrogant, disgusting smile. "Did you think I wouldn't notice it? I don't like being played as a fool, Callidora. And I want to see for myself."

Her jaw clenched and she tried to pull back but for someone who was just a hair taller than her, he was strong enough to hold her to him while he tore at her nightgown with ease. She was surprised she even had nightgowns left. He looked at the physical changes that were apparent even now with a victorious smirk. "Sixteen moons, didn't you say? Not even three this time, Callidora. I dare say this shall get easier with time."

Hate burned in her eyes. "I hope its a girl." She choked out and he chuckled dryly. "As you keep saying. I suppose we'll have an inkling within two moons, but this is a cause to be celebrated. Your brothers would love to know this fantastic news, wouldn't they? We must send them a letter with the wonderful news."

She paled and this time, he let her move off of him. "How long have you known?" She whispered and he nudged his shoulders while reaching for an apple and a dagger. "Since you brought your evening meal out onto my floor. And I went to pay our old friend Maester Wolkan a visit. He shook in his boots when I walked in. Quite funny, actually. I told him what I saw and thought and he told me that you could very well be with child."

"You enjoy tormenting him, don't you?" She whispered and she saw a hint of a smile on his lips. "Perhaps, but seeing that growing mound on your stomach clarified it. But the real question is, how long have you known?"

She turned away from him and he chuckled. "I believe I have my answer. And I thought you agreed not to lie to me, Callidora." He continued and she kept her face turned away from him. "I didn't lie, actually. I just didn't tell you." She corrected and he made an ahing sound. "But I asked you, if I remember correctly and I'm quite sure I do, I asked you if there was anything you had to tell me, and you said no."

Her moss green eyes widened slightly and she turned to look at him while he peeled his fruit with that bloody dagger of his. "So you're going to beat me then? You can't hurt me or you risk losing your heir." She said with a slightly smug smile. At least there was one plus to carrying his disgusting heirs. They weren't disgusting in the sense of things, but being made and forced to carry them as a mare was.

He chuckled, popping a bit of apple peel into his mouth. "Is that what you believe? There are many ways to hurt someone, Callidora. Mentally, _physically_ , emotionally. I can beat you, as you worded it, however I like." He looked at her slowly fading smile with one, much smugger and darker one of his own. "So you see -you could be pregnant over and over again for the next four years. It matters not." He continued simply with another chuckle, this one much more menacing.

Blue eyes looked to her terrified green ones and he smirked at the terror in them. "So you cannot win this foolish battle you think you can still win." He resumed peeling his apple. "And I believe I told you to come here, and come here you will do and will remain. Do I need to repeat myself? You should know by now how much I hate repeating myself."

Her eyes found the dirtied floor and she shuffled herself forward unwillingly. She wanted to run away as he pulled her down onto his lap once again, blue eyes staring into her green ones. "Now, I want you to, _persuade me_ , not to punish you for lying to me. You know how. Remember, Callidora, you did such a good job last time." He whispered in her ear and she grimaced, tears pooling in her eyes.

It was like a storm. He could be calm and the storm would not strike, like he was being so far at the moment. Or he could be volatile and strike her down over and over again. The power could switch between them at any moment, and he mostly held it.

"I don't want to." She whispered. "I don't want to let you win."

He smiled arrogantly to her and he almost destroyed her as he brushed the lose tears from her cheek. "But I have won, Callidora. I won the first time you got pregnant, and now you are pregnant again, and if you don't want such awful, painful marks to cover your skin. Like I just told you, my beautiful but not quite smart wife, you have no choice but to do as I ask. I will kill your brothers, and then you will be all alone, with no one to turn to other than me."

Tears dripped down her cheeks. "I just want to go home." She whispered and he gave her the most false, sympathetic look in the history of false sympathetic looks. "But you are a Bolton now, and this is your home now. It will be your child's home, my heirs home. You cannot leave and go to a place that would cast you out because you carry their enemies heir within you. Nathanial fought for you because you weren't pregnant, but now you are. Would he do it again?"

That made her shake her head weakly. "He loves me and he promised father he would take care of me." She whispered and he smirked slightly. "Yes, but that was before I took your virginity and made you soon to be fat with child. You've been spoiled and ruined and broken beyond repair, Callidora. You can't mend something that can't be fixed, can you?"

Swallowing back her pain, she shook her head. "No, you can't, but I'm not broken, not to me." She whispered and he levelled her with a look that told her not to argue or she'd regret it. Her bottom lip quivered. "But you will be when I'm finished with you, Callidora, and then once I slaughter all your brothers, you'll have no one left but me."

Settling back in the chair, he gave her an expectant look. "Now, don't you have something to do?"


	22. Chapter 22

Green eyes stared at the small mound that was visible through her nightgown with confliction emotions. She could love a child, regardless of its heritage, because it was a part of her. But it was also part of him. Could she love something that came also from a monster that was as cruel as him?

Well, it was too late to doubt that now. Her hands folded over the growing bulge. How long would it take to move within her? Would that cause her pain from within? She didn't have a mother alive so she didn't know, and she wasn't asking her mother in-law who hadn't been with child once. She was all but useless in that aspect.

The monster was asleep beside her, his soft snores filling the stone bricked room. He looked almost...human. But he was a beast in a mans skin, and being asleep didn't change him on the inside as it did on the outside. He might look peaceful somewhat on the outside, but inside, he was the devil incarnate, capable of committing unspeakable acts.

A soft, almost silent sigh left her lips. Her thumbs stroked the swell through the cotton, her eyes focussed on the ceiling. How would childbirth feel like? She had heard the nightmarish stories of women bleeding to death during such and she didn't want that at all. She couldn't leave him with an innocent, pure baby that he would twist and mould to his advantage.

It had to know love of a sort.

She turned to look at him. He looked almost...innocent...in his sleep. But looks could be deceiving. She knew him to be a cruel, vile brute of a man and the peaceful look he took while sleeping didn't suit him. She wanted to rip that look from his face, to banish it from both sight and her mind. It was not him in the slightest, and she hated it.

* * *

"The child is quite high up, my lady."

She frowned. "What does that mean?" She inquired and Maester Wolkan gave her a somewhat, _fearful_ , nervous smile. "It means, my lady, that I think it might be a girl." He uttered, eyes wide and full of fear.

Hope sparked within her and a small smile graced her face. He frowned in response. "My lady? Forgive me for inquiring, but why would you be glad for a daughter and not a son?" He asked quietly.

She smiled slightly. "A daughter means I live longer." She whispered and she was sure that she saw the ghost of a smile cross his face, but it was gone quicker than she could fathom as the door opened, the man bowing his head immediately as the monster walked into the room with both his hands clasped behind his back. He looked expectantly between them. "Well? What of it?"

Maester Wolkan went to talk but she smiled falsely, stopping him. "Could you leave us, perhaps? I'd like to tell him." _All the better to rub it in_...

Ramsay raised a brow and gestured for the shaking man to leave, which he did rather quickly. She supressed her smile and turned away from him. He became quickly impatient with her silence and he gripped her arm hard enough to leave bruises. "Are you going to bore and irritate me?"

She looked at him. "He said it looks like a girl."

He seemed to think it over for a moment before the rage shone in his eyes. "Did he now?"

She nodded with a small smile. "Yes, he did. And if its true, that means your father will be quite cross with you, won't he? No boy, no heir. A girl simply means you can forge an alliance with another rivalling house. I wonder if the first one was a boy. What would your father say if he-"

A hand grabbed her throat instead and squeezed, a choke ripping from her lips. He switched on that façade of a pleasant smile. "But he'll never know, will he, because if you so much as utter a word about this, I'll beat you so hard, you won't even recognise your own face." He chuckled sadistically, eyes flickering over her slowly turning blue lips.

She slapped her hand on his wrist, trying to tell him to stop, and with a heavy, dramatic sigh, he did. "So, you were saying, and without gloating."

Green eyes burned with hate. "He said it might be a girl." She whispered, looking anywhere but him. He made a none too pleased sound. "And I must confess that I overheard your comment outside. You think that because this _might_ be a _girl_ , that you'll live longer? I might just kill you as soon as this child is in this world and turn my attention to one of the Stark ladies."

She paled. It was bad enough that she was being forced to endure this torture, but her cousins? No way in hell.

"No," she whispered. "You don't need to hurt them too. I just don't want to die."

He stroked his thumb along her jawline, tauntingly. She shuddered with a grimace in response. "We all die in the end, Callidora. Some die sooner than others, like you, and others shall live for years to come, like me. Must you dwell on this? It makes you age rather dreadfully."

"What are you going to do?" She breathed weakly and he smirked, moving away and leaving her shuddering against one of the four bed posts, a hand rubbing her aching throat. "Well, that is a difficult question, isn't it?" He glanced at her. "What should I do, my dear wife? Should I punish you for being disrespectful, or should I perhaps go and flay some poor soul in the dungeons?"

She swallowed hard and then his eyes lit up with cruel delight. "I almost forgot! I promised to show you flaying while you were pregnant, didn't I? How foolish of me to have forgot that! Get dressed."

Her eyes widened and she moved back and away from him. "I don't want to see that again." She pleaded and he advanced as she backed back into the corner of the room, mentally cursing when her back hit the hard stone brick wall. She shrank as he towered over her with a slight smile. "But you don't have a choice. You belong to me, Callidora -you're mine. You do as I tell you." He reminded.

Tears, desperate tears, pooled in her eyes. "Please, I don't want to see. You can do anything, make me do anything, but please don't make me see that again." She pleaded and a wicked smile crossed his face. "Anything, you say?"

Swallowing thickly, she nodded jerkily. Excellent. She was right where he wanted her. She stared with wide, petrified eyes and sucked in a shaky breath. "I just don't like seeing people suffering." She whispered.

He chuckled at that. "You torched half a dozen men in your birthplace!"

"They had just slaughtered three people before me and I was defending myself." She protested weakly and he nodded simply. "Father didn't see it like that when he first found out. So, what are you willing to do then?"

She closed her eyes to hide the tears as she moved out of her defensive position against the wall, refusing to meet his eyes, and cruel, amusedly sadistic eyes they were. "Do whatever you want to me." She whispered brokenly and the edge of his mouth tilted up ever so slightly. "I was planning on it."


	23. Chapter 23

The first fluttering within her came during the evening meal, her fork clattering to her plate as she felt such movement. He didn't bother to look at her. "What is the matter this time?"

She smiled grimly. "I think I felt it move." Came her startled whisper. He looked at her. "And this concerns me how? It'll be moving in just over a season when you birth it so what's the difference?" He clipped and she sighed. "Because at least you know its alive." She sneered and then she eyed him warily. "You won't kill it if its a girl, will you?"

He chuckled devilishly. "I'm many things, Callidora, but I'm not one to murder a firstborn heir of mine, girl or not. If you don't give me a son within a few years of her birth, that is if she is a she, I'll start over, and I'll send her somewhere that all lost girls lend up."

She paled. "I doubt your father will think of it like that. Girls are just as valuable as boys, Ramsay. They're used to form alliances, create new generations, bind houses together. Who knows, it might solidify Bolton hold on the North."

He looked at her then. "Is that so? I just want a son or two from you, Callidora. A girl, perhaps, but not outnumbering the boys. I want those heirs from you, and I will get them."

Her eyes looked at her clasped hands that were folded in her lap. "And what of me when you don't? You know what Maester Wolkan said. It's too high up and according to him, that's a sign of a girl. I just don't want to wake up one morning and find out you've fed her to your rabid dogs." She muttered.

Another chuckle left him. "She would be my heir regardless, Callidora, but I do want sons from you, not girls. If I'm to contest any son my father should have in the upcoming years, I need a son of my own." He stated simply and she sighed. "Well, just to irritate you, I hope she becomes pregnant with a boy soon." She spat.

* * *

Waking up and flushed in the middle of the cold season wasn't nice, and despite the fact that the room was freezing cold, her skin burned and her moss green eyes watered at the uncomfortable feelings that raged inside her.

She moved frequently, chest heaving and eyes looking all over. It was as if she was boiling in her own skin, and when she went to get out of bed, a cold hand locked around her wrist. "Where do you think you're going?"

Cool blue eyes stared at her, suddenly alert. For someone who slept so peacefully despite how chaotic he was, he sure did sleep rather lightly. Her wrist shook in his vice like grip. "I can't sleep." She whispered and shifted uncomfortably. He eyed her strangely and then she recognised the sly, cunningly sly look in his eyes, despite having had them closed not even a few minutes ago.

"And whatever is the matter, my _beautiful wife_? Is there a, _burning_ , down there?"

She turned from him, her cheeks pinking. How on earth did he know that? Gods, that was mortifyingly embarrassing. She peeked at him and let out an embarrassed huff. "Yes." She said uncomfortably and he chuckled, flopping back onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. "I think I have a cure for that burn." He said with complete seriousness but his eyes were anything but serious, showing his mocking amusement at how flushed she was.

Her eyes widened as he moved and reached for the lacing of her nightgown. "That wasn't a way for you to do _that_!" She exclaimed, her words ringing into the darkness of the room. She saw the blue in his eyes glimmer wickedly. "But this will cure the burn, my lady. Think long and hard, Callidora. How much do you want that awful, uncomfortable burn to go away?" He whispered, taunting her.

Desperation came over her face. It was the most embarrassingly uncomfortable feeling she'd ever experienced and he was mocking her! Her eyes burned with loathing and he clicked his tongue impatiently. "I'm waiting, Callidora." He reminded and she grimaced desperately. This would be the first time of her giving into him without conditions stacked upon her choice, and it didn't seem right but oh, how she wanted the burn gone.

"P-please make it go." She whispered, the words feeling like sludge coming out of her mouth. And there it was -that smirk. He gave her that false sympathetic look, fingers going to the ties of her nightgown while she trembled beneath him. Was this wrong? It didn't feel wrong anymore, for some bemused reason.

"Of course I will." He said simply, tossing the nightgown onto the cold floor. The cold air smacked into her like a brick wall and she grimaced. He smirked and she closed her eyes as he placed his hands over her body. "Where is the burn, Callidora?"

The whisper made her grimace uncomfortably. "You know where it is." She whispered as her legs shook and he chuckled. "Well where is it then, Callidora? You asked for this and now I want you to tell me what you want me to do." He repeated and gave her that smug, pleasant smile and a pained look crossed her moss green eyes. He held his hand out. "Show me where the burn is." He repeated.

With a shaking hand, she hesitantly took his and guided it hesitantly and slowly down her body. He watched with dangerous eyes as she refused to look at him. She pulled her hand back after it had reached a place where no one should be touched. He bared his teeth in a grin and locked both hands around her thighs, prying them open and settling himself between them. Was this wrong?

"Is it wrong for me to want you to do this?" She whispered and he moved his eyes up to her. "Does this feel wrong?"

She couldn't control the unfamiliar sound that escaped her throat as he touched somewhere that he used for his own pleasure. Her breath caught in her throat as he pushed a finger in -she heard the slick sound. Weakly, she thought of her brothers, and the ultimate betrayal she was placing upon them. But her body betrayed her mind, and it was as if she wasn't in control of her actions.

"Please, she whispered, not knowing what she was pleading for. He seemed to know as that dreaded smirk widened and he feigned innocence with a wide smile. "Please? Why of course, dearest wife." The fire was now unbearable and another strange sound left her lips, head tipping back as she tried to find air to fill her lungs. Her legs quivered and when she felt him pull back, she frowned but then swallowed thickly as he guided the source of many nights of pain towards her innermost parts.

"That's not what I meant." She whispered, her voice breaking. Cruel, smug eyes stared into he watering green ones. "Should I stop?"

He began to pull back and the flames licked at her on the inside. She whimpered at the unfamiliar, pleasurable feelings that surged through her and threatened to burn her down. He held her hips down and smirked. "Should I stop?" He repeated, this time with an edge to his voice. She gave a desperate pleading look, shaking her head slowly, too afraid to speak in fear he would stop. "You don't want me to stop?"

She shook her head again, tears of humiliation burning in her eyes. He had gotten her where he wanted her, used her, _situation_ to his advantage. But it was too late -she'd given into him. A fire burned within her like never before, that coil in her stomach about as tight as it could be without snapping. He seemed to know too as he smirked above her, albeit it looked a tad smugger than before.

"I've never heard a lady moan like a bitch in heat." He confessed as she quivered against him, fingers gripping his skin so hard they drew blood. He hissed in response before continuing to speak. "I rather like it -it isn't at all unbecoming."

She squeezed her eyes shut as shivers began to surge through her and not as a result of the cold either. This had been wrong, but somehow, for a reason yet not known, she couldn't care and didn't want to either.


	24. Chapter 24

Now that it had moved once, the child within never seemed to cease doing so. It kept her awake at night, tired her out, sent her to do certain business most of the time. So when the snow fell hard outside and she was made to walk through it like a prized sow, her eyes kept drooping and when they closed for a single minute of longed for relief, he would irritate her by snapping his fingers and whistling at her as though she were a rabid dog of his.

And by the fifth time, she was beyond annoyed. "I want to go back to bed." She mumbled and he showed amusement in those ice blue eyes of his. "Isn't it unfortunate for you then that I intend to remain out here until the skies darken." She grimaced at those words and glanced at her stomach. "It must be a son then because your heir seems to hate me." She snapped.

He smirked slightly. "And for your sake, hope it is." He said simply and she looked at her knotted fingers that were protected from the cold by her beloved leather gloves. So she merely sighed and glanced over the horizon. "How did they take the news of my carrying of your heir again?" She wondered quietly.

Blue eyes looked to her moss green ones. "Not well at all. I had a rather insulting letter in response and it even insulted father too. Not a nice or even clever move to make as now they've attracted his wrathful attention also, not just mine. So now, all House Bolton men are standing by and they're simply awaiting for your brothers to arrive with their armies."

She nodded once. "I don't want Nathanial to die." She whispered and he glanced at her. "And your other brothers? Don't you wish the same for them?"

"Have you ever had siblings?" She quipped, leaning on the stone brick battlements. He nodded once. "I have, but I fail to see the point to my telling you this."

She sighed again. "I shared a womb with Nathanial, and he protected me and tutored me when the others were off playing battle. He cared for me when I became a victim to a sweating sickness and he held me while I wept about our parents being slaughtered by Lannister forces. None of the others took the time to care for me like that like he did. Yes, I love them and they love me, but I don't connect with them like I do Nathanial." She admitted quietly.

"If he chooses to side with them, then I shall slaughter him along with them." She paled and he held up a finer tauntingly. "However!" He said with a cheerful façade. "If he surrenders and proclaims House Bolton as the now Warden of The North and gives up his portion of their armies, then he shall be spared, but only if he does such requirements, and no less."

"He'll never do that." She spluttered with wide eyes and he sighed dramatically. "Then he won't be spared, will he now? Its simple, Callidora. He will either bow down to House Bolton, or he will die. I trust that if he loves you as you claim he does, he won't do anything foolish that might result in your pain and suffering."

Her bottom lip quivered and he sighed again. "You betrayed them regardless the other night, didn't you? You spread your legs willingly and you moaned my name." The glint in those blue eyes returned and she looked down at her hands once more. "I asked you a question. You let me have you, didn't you? You writhed underneath me and now, you can't take that back, can you?"

Trying not to make a pained sound as his gloved hand gripped her wrist tight enough to leave bruises and tears bubbled in her eyes, she nodded shakily. "Yes," she whispered, shame searing into her voice. "Yes I did."

"And you know you did too, don't you? You sullied your brothers the moment you gave me what I wanted."

She looked from him but he gripped her chin and turned her face back to him, her features contorting into a painful grimace. "Yes, I know what I did." She gasped out, eyes watering weakly. "And I hate myself for it."

He shushed her mockingly, tauntingly, and released her, keeping a hand cupping her face. "But you shouldn't, should you? You are my wife, and you merely did that which wives are _obligated_ to do, are they not? And don't lie to yourself, Callidora. You enjoyed giving into me."

That made her pause. "You think I enjoyed letting you win? My body betrayed my mind. Yes, it is what wives are meant to do, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I like doing it. I gave in once, one time, and I won't let myself go weak and do it again." She said quietly.

He smirked. "We'll see. I'll be keeping you alive until I have those sons of mine. And then once I have them, you're gone and you won't have to fret about anything anymore. And as for your brothers? Unless they surrender and go back to those shitholes of their strongholds that they live in with their brides and little brats. This is where House Bolton lives, and this is where the next generation will be born, and the generation after that, and thus on. You carry the next generation, and you would do well to remember that, Callidora."

* * *

Seeing a foot appear against your skin was not the idea of beautiful, especially when you felt sick enough to start with. Callidora balked, her eyes wide and appalled. He smirked at seeing that. "Does it hurt?" He asked, delight filling his eyes at the prospect of the thought that it did.

She shook her head. "No," she murmured, rubbing her finger over the fabric of her dress that was creating such a shape. "No, it doesn't hurt, just some mild discomfort. I never expected to see that though. I hope I'm not subject to witnessing more sights such as this."

"Of course you'll be." He said simply from where he sat writing whatever the hell he was writing. Probably a taunt to her brothers. "You'll not be able to rest for the next couple of years, Callidora. I thought I told you this already, and I don't like repeating myself."

"As if I don't know." She grumbled, rolling over and turning away from him. She heard him stop writing and the chair scrape back, his soft yet heavy footsteps coming closer and she steeled herself for an inevitable assault. "I leave for battle in seven nights."

She scowled. "Good, and I hope you die during such." She hissed and he chuckled. "Is that so? I'll be back after the child is born, and I expect you to remain in this room and out of trouble. No killing yourself, no plotted escapes, and most of all, no secret messages. There'll be guards posted outside the door at all times and if they send word that you've done something you shouldn't of, well..." Blue eyes looked at her slowly terror filling green ones darkly. "Giving birth and bearing others will be the least of your worries. You'll get a glimpse of what I'm going to do to your brothers down in the dungeons. Do I make myself clear?"

Her bottom lip quivered. "Very," she whispered and he smiled that arrogant, false pleasant smile at her. "Excellent. Oh? You look like you want to tell me something?"

"P-Please don't lock me in this room for the whole time you're gone. I'll go mad with nothing to do."

He chuckled with wicked amusement. "But you just said you wished me to die while gone, and if I do so, you'll be alone forever! You can't have it both ways, Callidora. But you can busy yourself with preparing for the birth of the growing child inside you, can't you? And I expect good news when I return...I'd hate to be irritated on our much longed for reunion, wouldn't you agree?"

Supressing her gape of horror, she nodded jerkily. "Yes." She whispered hoarsely and he smiled with false pleasantries. "Good."


	25. Chapter 25

It was nice not having the threat of abuse hanging over her head, and though she knew it to be no doubt brief, she relished in the fact she wasn't to be used for a cruel mans pleasures. She could read and draw and mend the nightgowns and dresses he'd ruined in his haste to rape her peacefully, and without him around, it was as peaceful as it could be.

She sowed the fabric of her nightgown shut as tight as she could possibly hope to mend it. She'd had to adjust some of her other nightgowns to be accommodating to her growing stomach anyways. It wasn't as if she wasn't doing it for a reason. A soft sigh left her lips as she adjusted it, the quiet one to no doubt remember.

The child within moved and she smiled slightly. "Not even born yet and you've caused so much trouble." She murmured, more to herself than the babe within. Could it hear her? Probably not. There was still just under a season left to go now, and less than a season until she would be graced with his vile presence once again.

She sighed deeply, looking at the flames in the roaring fire. Someone had lit it while she slept and whoever it was that did so -more than likely Theon being the culprit- she was grateful for them doing so. She needed to make at least a garment that would keep the said child warm during the cold season which was all the time. But the bitter than usual cold season was approaching, the time when the snow became waist deep and harsh winds swept across The North. No child would survive that merely wrapped in a pelt.

But what to make? She needed to fashion a pelt to accommodate a babe to be honest and this would be a perfect chance to explore fashioning a simple garment for a newborn babe, a boy or girl regardless although she secretly but not so secretly hoped it was the latter rather than the former.

What would he do to her though if it did in fact turn out to be a girl rather than the longed for son he wanted? He would beat her, her mind sneered at her. He would beat and rape her until she was in no fit state to feed a newborn babe. Would he feed her to his rabid hounds? That terrified her and she found her hands halting in their mending as she thought about such a horrible fate for one who hadn't even had a chance to live.

But then again, he had said he wouldn't do that, but then again too, he was a liar and a bully and most of all, he was a _bastard_. She couldn't trust him at arms length and she didn't want to either for that matter. He was the monster mothers warned their children about, the beast in the night that if given the chance, would strike you down before you could blink, He was the devil and this child would be the innocent one in all of this, even in spite of the gender of the said child.

Picking up the needle once more, a soft sigh left her full lips. What on earth had she done to deserve such a fate as this?

* * *

The cold air that swept through the room made her shudder and shiver in her sleep, and when she awakened in the early morn, her limbs were as stiff as nails and her cough hurt. It wasn't pleasant, but she'd survive. The dying embers in the fireplace provided little warmth so she pulled her swollen and sore self from the bed, walking over slowly to the dying heat.

Picking up the poker and prodding the dying embers with it, she simply stared into the flames.

What to call such a child if it were a girl? She didn't want him to chose such an awful name because he was irritated he didn't get the son that he wanted from her so badly. It wouldn't be long before it turned into the engaged position ready for birth. It was growing fast, the nights and days of torture and pain blending into one long nightmare, one she wanted to end.

The flames crackled and they sparked anew and she placed the poker down with a soft sigh. It was nice not having a monster towering over you -he forever seemed to do that despite being only a hair taller than her. Would he be pleased with a son if it was indeed a boy? No, he would just think she was perfect for giving him those bastard sons and he would never leave her be then.

And worst of all, she'd never, ever, ever be free from this unending nightmare. And that terrified her the most.


	26. Chapter 26

Two moons left. It seemed like an eternity, an eternity she would gladly endure with pride considering at the end of that eternity laid pain and hurt, the likes of which she wasn't looking forward to whatsoever. And yet as awful as it was to want that, she wanted him to die in battle, to be slain and suffer like the men he sent into slaughter did.

Both she and the child growing and moving restlessly inside her would be better off for it too.

She had nothing else left to do. She'd made a pelt to swaddle the said child in, the fur and warmth of such going to be essential in protecting the newborn babe from the cold winter when it made its way into the world. It was uncomfortable, being as fat as a prized sow, which to be honest, that was exactly what she was.

A prized _breeding_ mare, that's what she was, disgustingly enough.

Was this to be her life until the monster ended it? To _breed_ him these heirs he so demanded from her, to endure hours and days and weeks and months of pain giving him such. Oh, how she hoped this child was a girl, and not the son he wanted so he could reinforce his claim of his heritage. She hoped it was a girl just to shame him in front of his father, but then again, perhaps if he got the son he would relent and leave her be as a result of such a deliverance...

No. He would just think that she was _perfect_ in his _pathetic quest_ at making her give him the said sons, and he would never let her go then. The agony she felt would only get worse, and he would only become more smugger and more arrogant and even worse than he was now. But could it become worse?

Gods, she hoped he died in battle, that was if the coward even participated in the battle itself.

* * *

She didn't know how it was smuggled in, but when she awakened one morning, her limbs stiff and sore from the cold, the first thing she saw was the pristine folded piece of paper on the pillow next to her where the monster usually slept.

Snatching it up, she hastily went to unfold it but paused. He had warned her that she was to receive no secret letters...But this one she had no knowledge in whatsoever, so surely that wasn't the same as her sending a letter back.

 _Callidora,  
I wish I could congratulate you, but we both know you don't want to hear that from me.  
We have a few people within Winterfell walls, one of which has smuggled you the letters and will continue to do so as long as we shall write them for you.  
As soon as we have finished in the battles that we are currently fighting in, we will come for you and that niece or nephew of ours. It'll be given the life a Bolton couldn't provide it with.  
We'll come for you when we've finished our own battles. This is our promise as a collective.  
Take care, little sister, and don't lose hope, we beg of you._

Tears pooled in her eyes at that and she sniffed, stuffing the letter under the mattress with great difficulty. Who were these people that were somehow managing to smuggle these letters in? Did they have even an inkling what would happen to them if the monster found out? He would have them flayed and then make them live long enough to feel themselves being devoured by those rabid dogs of his! She didn't want to see that happen to an ally of hers unless they had done something horribly wrong to her and her family, the biological kind.

Blinking back the tears, she moved those moss green eyes of hers down to her swollen stomach, the obvious movement form within making her cringe. It could go both ways, the birth of this child that was. He could either be pleased, or he could be the most angered she had ever seen him.

And from the position of the child, for some strange reason, she favoured the latter option being the one to be the most probable, and that wasn't good in the slightest.


	27. Chapter 27

What on earth she contributed at a table with some traitor lords of traitor houses was beyond her. She kept a stony face as she came to a stop beside the man who'd created the monster of her nightmares. He briefly regarded her with interest before looking back at a frayed and old map of the North. "Lady Callidora, how lovely of you to join us."

She didn't answer, instead merely sighing in response. "What am I needed for, Lord Bolton?" She asked bluntly and he gestured to the map. "I have men here, and here." He pointed to The Dreadfort and Moat Cailin. She remained quiet but nodded once, shifting uncomfortably under the piercing gazes of the different lords at the table. They were all bastards for betraying both House Stark and House Marcellus.

" _I would like to know about the terrain here."_

She frowned. "The terrain? Its just land for miles and snow as far as a person can see." She stated and he hummed under his breath. "And are there any Marcellus strongholds amongst that land and all that snow?"

That was what she was here for -to spill her sacred secrets. She shook her head within a second. "No, nothing but another house and their main stronghold. I don't know the name, but I know it isn't Marcellus." She blurted and he raised a brow. "Are you sure?"

She nodded with tight eyes. "I'm positive."

* * *

How dare they ask such of her! To betray her own house? She would rather jump off of the battlements that lined the once beloved home of House Stark. It didn't belong to House Bolton and what irritated her the most was the fact they paraded around within the walls as if it was theirs, and it most certainly wasn't theirs...

Callidora sighed as she took a seat on the bed, a furnishing that allowed the monster who was hopefully fighting to his death, to hurt and brutalize her. It was just a bed, yet it brought so much pain and torment to her when she was forced to bleed over the pelts that lined her cousins beds. It was disgusting. How she disgraced her blood and how this child was now the product of such.

And he'd threatened to go after her cousins if she didn't give him what he wanted, and no way in hell was someone else going to go though the same hell she was currently going through. That just wouldn't be fair to the said unfortunate person, whether it be Sansa or Arya. They didn't deserve a fate as awful and disgusting as the one she was being subjected to.

If it meant she could keep her cousins safe from the wicked clutch of the Bastard Bolton, then so be it for her to suffer a fate worse than death. If she could keep him from hurting House Stark anymore than they already had by giving him what he wanted -within reason-, then so be it.

The child within moved as if it could hear her thoughts and she sighed, looking at her swollen stomach. She pitied any child that would be brought into the world and belonged to a house as horrific as House Bolton. It would grow up seeing flayed men and women and children and that wasn't acceptable on any standards.

No child should be subjected to that kind of horror, regardless of its parentage. And if her time with the child was to be brief and heart achingly short, then she could at least teach it compassion before it could be corrupted by a demon such as its father.

* * *

 **-These are just fillers... I intend for slightly bigger events to happen next chapter and then back comes "The Monster". Thanks for reading.**


	28. Chapter 28

_Sister  
We'll keep it brief. We managed to fend off a Lannister attack just the night before and our men are becoming depleted. But others are joining and we're renewing our fight.  
Our spies tell us that you've become rather large since the last letter. That must mean you must be nearing the end of this no doubt awful experience for you.  
We know it mustn't of been the easiest situation to go through, and the bastard left you alone to suffer alone with no one but yourself to communicate to. We'll make him suffer for that too when we come for you.  
Keep strong, little sister, and you'll be seeing us soon._

That was the last letter she'd received. How on earth did this informant know how heavy with child she was becoming? She was alone save for the maid who came to light the fire on occasion throughout the light and then another who brought her the evening meal. The last was one of Ramsay's whores that hadn't been chased down with the rabid, snarling, foaming at the mouth dogs -she was out of the circle of suspicion.

And how did someone get past the two guards that were forever outside her door? One of them had to be in on the plot, surely they had to be... Her eyes watered. Too much thought to comprehend at the current moment.

A knock came at the door and she hastily stuffed the letter under the mattress with the other sacred piece of paper. And as she scrambled to her feet to grab her cloak considering she was in her nightgown, she sank to the ground as her leg gave way beneath her and as she sprawled to the floor, a sharp pain tearing up her stomach.

An equally sharp and agonised gasp ripped from within in depths of her throat and the door opened, the morning maid rushing over to help her up. It was as painful as the constant rape she was subjected to felt like, if not worse. "My lady, are you alright?" She babbled and Callidora tried to steady her breathing as pain seared up her lower back. "Is the child coming? Do I need to send for Maester Wolkan and a Septa?"

She shook her head with tear filled eyes. "I will survive, Lyrall." She reassured, her voice and facial expression as strained as they could be. "Are you here to light the fire?" She asked with a grimace, rubbing her trembling hands over her stomach.

The maid shook her head with wide, solemn eyes. "No, my lady. Lord Bolton was injured in battle and he shall be back in Winterfell within three nights."

Callidora paled. "You aren't talking about Roose Bolton, are you?" She breathed, terror lacing through her. He would no doubt find the letters, and if she were to burn them, he would more than likely still find scraps in the fireplace as when a maid didn't come to light it and he grew impatient, he would do so himself... Oh good Gods.

The maid -Lyrall- shook her head, black curls springing around her head as she did. Come to think of it, she looked somewhat familiar, or was that just her mind playing a mockery of her? She didn't know, and most importantly, she didn't care.

He couldn't come back now, not now! He had to come back after the birth so he couldn't take the child from her before she had a chance to form a somewhat bond with it. Or send it where no child belonged, as he had once claimed he would do...

"He sent word the previous evening so he should arrive within these walls in the next two. My lady? Are you sure you're are feeling well?" She asked worriedly and Callidora nodded numbly. "I have slight pain but I am alright, I think. Could you do me a favour and fetch me some tea? And make sure that you prepare it yourself."

The young woman nodded with a small smile. "Of course, my lady."

* * *

Pain returned during the night and she gasped and cried during the whole time that darkness sheltered the room, the only slight light from the dying embers in the fire that provided little warmth. Tears had long since dried when the light returned and chased the darkness away, her stomach feeling as hard as a rock and giving her no rest.

When the maid came in the morn to light the fire, she was worse than she had been earlier. Sweat dripped down her cheeks and there was a small but definite red stain on her white nightgown along with a large wet patch. Pain chased the embarrassment away and Lyrall rushed to her side after she placed the small tray on the small table with the two chairs. "My lady!"

Callidora grimaced at the fresh wave of a pain so great it brought the tears back. "I have never felt a pain such as this before." She admitted tearfully and the other woman grimaced too while she helped her to sit up, using a pillow from behind to prop her up so she could release her. "How long has the pain been there?" She whispered anxiously.

"Since I fell." She confirmed tearfully and then looked at her with horrified eyes. "Do you think there's something wrong with the baby?" She asked, a terror filling her eyes. He would kill her, should this child be lost soon. She didn't want to die, not yet, not now, not ever!

Lyrall shook her head with wide eyes. "I must fetch Maester Wolkan, my lady, and the Septa. Will you be alright while I am gone fetching them?"

Callidora nodded, waving a hand towards the door. "Go," she ushered impatiently, gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw as she strained against the pain. The young woman wasted no time and fled, the door shutting behind her.

A scream unlike one she'd screamed before tore from her lips and she placed her hands on her thighs, crying out and straining as she did so. Was she pushing out an organ from within? Not likely.

Wide green eyes widened even more and she lifted her pale face, a shaky hand reaching downward to where the pain was originating from and she swallowed nervously, a shriek ripping from her lips as she felt something that wasn't normal whatsoever. It felt like wet fur, something that definitely didn't belong to her body.

"Not yet, not yet." She gasped out, but it was as if the child was as stubborn as her, for when she breathed, it seemed to edge out just a little more. It was being a nuisance already! Fire burned where no fire should burn and she shuddered, eyes watering. This was unbearable. Crimson soaked the sheets beneath her and she braced down, a hand going back to where the fire now was taking up residence.

And there it was. One last, awful pain shuddered through her like a fierce gale and she cried her pain, an equally loud one echoing hers just a moment later as she flopped back, chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath. It felt easier to breath now, and with terror and fright racing through her, she pushed herself upwards to look at the cause for her pain.

The wailing babe was a sight to behold, flakes of white and smears of blood covering its wrinkled skin. She shook as she reached for it, the sound of running feet alerting her to the fact she soon wouldn't be alone. And before they could come into the room, she looked down with bated breath, her green eyes widening a little as she saw what she had hoped but not hoped for -no heir for the monster this time.


	29. Chapter 29

For one who'd made such a dramatic entrance into life, she wasn't the sort of babe you'd associate with coming from a sadistic beast. Green eyes that mirrored her own stared at her while she drank her fill from her, and Callidora ran her fingers over the dark hair with a frown. If only the little girl swaddled in her arms could be all her, and then no one would know she came from such a dreadful monster.

Laying in bed, resting, was something she tired of before the night of the birth had came to an end. The little girl kept her awake and she knew that he wouldn't permit a child in the room with him when he came back, so when the maid revealed that the baby would be reachable through a door that all but connected within this room and had been designed as such for House Stark when they occupied Winterfell. That door had too been locked, and now, with the birth came and gone, it was now unlocked.

Those green eyes reminded her of her mother, whose green eyes she had inherited also. Must be a Mother to Daughter thing. Almost uncertainly, she moved a finger down the sucking infants cheek, a small, sad smile coming to her face at the softness of her skin. Would he kill her? He did, after all, admit he was a liar and a scoundrel... Oh, how she hoped he wouldn't.

There was a small knock at the door and she didn't bother to look up. "Come in." She called softly, green eyes meeting green eyes as she adjusted the pelt covering the child from view -she'd placed it there in case someone came in unannounced.

Surprise filtered through her as she saw the woman who was just above her in age and height, for that matter. "Lady Walda." She murmured, hugging her infant a little tighter to her chest despite the fact the portly woman posed no threat at all. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The woman whose family had betrayed hers smiled kindly. "I just came to wish you well and to congratulate you on the birth of your daughter." She said simply and that made Callidora smile uneasily. "The news of a daughter is spreading like wildfire, isn't it?"

"Quite. I have noticed that some of the servants do not seem to share in the same delight as others have." She confessed and Callidora hummed with a tight smile. "Yes, I doubt they'd be quite as pleased as some of the other household staff. They don't like the fact Ramsay married me, albeit arranged or not, and now with a child into the equation? I'm sure you can figure out the rest."

"Oh," she murmured. Then a small smile came onto her face. "Well I'm pleased for you. Have you decided upon a name yet?"

Callidora shook her head. "Better to wait for him to return that face his wrath." She stated plainly, doing up the laces of her nightgown with a hand and she sighed deeply while placing the day old infant on her chest and gently winding her like she'd seen mothers do to their own babes. Better to have learned it elsewhere than make costly mistakes.

She saw the woman at the end of the bed peer at the infant girl. "She's a rather young beauty, isn't she?" She asked and Callidora smiled a little more widely. "Yes, she is, and I hope and pray its enough to save her from what I fear may come."

* * *

Snow came down in a thick storm from the skies above and she shivered in the cold, her stomach having shrank greatly and she peered at the little baby who was swaddled within the furs that she held to her chest, protecting the poor mite from the cold that it couldn't have possibly adjusted to yet.

" _OPEN THE GATES!"_

She shifted uncomfortably at hearing that. The monster was back and she shook as the sound of incoming horses alerted her to their imminent arrival. It was terrifying. Oh, as awful as it sounded, how she hoped he would die from his wounds even though it was unlikely he would.

And yet, what sickened her the most was the fact that the precious bundle cradled to her chest could be so violently ripped from her in a second if he so deemed it would be.

Blue eyes found her in an instance, and she noted, with a certain smugness and malice, that cuts that were starting to heal sparsely covered his face. So he had been injured in more ways than one -good. His arm seemed to be injured to as it was in a sling close to his chest, his free hand gripping the reins tightly.

That smirk she hated appeared on his mouth once again and she hadn't missed it in the slightest. Snow crunched beneath his heavy leather boots as he made his way over to her. "Let us take this conversation inside, my dear wife." He spoke calmly, yet the eyes that belonged to him were anything but. A furious storm raged within them, and she followed him with quivering limbs, her mind racing a mile a minute. What was he going to do to her?

She got her answer soon enough as his uninjured hand struck her cheek with such force that she almost dropped the infant cradled to her chest. It stung and she clutched it with her free hand in horror. "A daughter, I heard. That was a mere glimpse of what is to follow if you gloat." He reminded, moving away from her and going to peel his cloak off, hissing with the pain as he did so.

"I can't control what the child came out as." She whispered in a weak defence and he paused and she rushed to ready herself. "I'm not gloating, I promise. I'm merely stating the truth."

He peeled off his shirt and she peered at the bloodied bandage with a frown. "What on earth happened to you?" She inquired and he smirked. "One man thought he had bigger balls than the rest of them and slashed me, so I retaliated, and I stabbed his face in return." He chuckled as though it were his own private joke and she hummed, moving to sit beside the fire. She then looked back at him. "Are you going to take her from me?" She muttered with bated breath.

Blue eyes moved back to her and he turned. "Well that depends entirely upon you, doesn't it? You step out of line, you become disrespectful and or you keep secrets and lie to me, I'll rip her from you before you can resist." He said firmly and she paled. He saw it and smirked. "You're keeping secrets again, aren't you?"

Swallowing her defeat, she looked at the innocent, slumbering infant that was nestled close to her. She had to save her over herself. "I was given a few letters while you were gone in battle." She admitted quietly.

He smirked wider and walked forward, the blood on his chest glinting in the amber light emanating from the fire. "Oh? And where are these secret letters of yours? Show me and then go get them for me, lest I show you again and remind you of the consequences. I warned you, didn't I? No little, pathetic letters from your brothers."

Standing with tearful eyes, she swallowed thickly. "Do you think you could at least hold her while I retrieve them?" She whispered and he eyed her through narrowed eyes. What game was she playing? But he nodded once, eyes hard and refusing to look at the infant while she moved over to the bed, her hand reaching beneath it to retrieve the pieces of sacred paper beneath it.

She took back the slowly waking infant hastily as he snatched the pieces from her. "Who delivered these to you? I might be injured but I can still skin someone while they still bleed." He hissed and she shook her head. "I swear I didn't know. I would wake up once every few weeks since you left and there would be a letter. At first, I thought it was from you, mocking me and taunting me even from hundreds of miles away, but then I read them and it sounded like all their other letters they had sent previously." She rushed, eyes flickering worriedly to stirring babe in her arms.

Ramsay tipped his head slightly with a dark smile. "Is that so? There's a limited number of servants allowed in here while I was gone and considerably less would have gotten past the men I kept outside the door. Are you lying to me, Callidora? I don't like being lied to, do I?"

She shook her head seriously. "I wouldn't lie, not now. I swear I have no idea who smuggled them in, I swear it."

He nodded once after a moment and moved away from her. "You can name her -I don't care as long as you don't choose something pathetic and that would shame House Bolton." He dismissed and she nodded once. "How bad are your wounds?" She asked quietly.

Blue eyes moved back to her green ones. "So concerned for one you hate, Callidora?"

"No, merely curious. I want to know how much longer I have to live with you." She muttered but he heard and chuckled devilishly. "Merely some flesh wounds that will heal and you'll never be rid of me now, will you?" He gestured to the fur wrapped bundle in her shaking arms. "I'm a part of you now."

She hummed. "Your injuries will become infected if you don't change your bandages." She pointed out, tuning away from him to tend to the little girl who was beginning to fuss, something she didn't do often.

The smirk returned. "Then it looks like you have a new task to do other than caring for our daughter, doesn't it?"


	30. Chapter 30

It was hard not to feel smug about the wounds that covered the right side of his body where his arm was and she tried not to scowl as she cleaned the wound against her will. He didn't even flinch, just watched her with those mind reading blue eyes of his. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He asked with wild blue eyes.

She hummed, ignoring the question behind the question. "I'm not you, and I never want to be like you. Also, have you even looked at your daughter?"

He pulled a face. "I wanted a son, yet I got a daughter in return. I'll bother with her when I feel like it, and at the moment, I don't feel like it."

Callidora sighed, the hand holding the damp cloth stilling. "I know you didn't want a daughter and you wanted a son, but that doesn't make her less your blood. You made her, Ramsay." She stated quietly and he smirked. "Well I should hope I was the one who made her, Callidora. You haven't been allowed out of my sight or this room since the rather unfortunate incident last time, have you?"

She looked from him with a sigh. "I gave you the letters to keep her safe, not so you could torment me even while you're injured." She snapped and he chuckled, shifting slightly. "You gave me those letters to save the both of you, Callidora. Don't lie now."

Her eyes moved from him at the sound of an infant beginning to stir reached her from the next room. She sighed, placing the damp cloth on the small bedside table. "I have to feed her." She murmured and he rolled his eyes. "Then go and make her quiet. I don't want to hear her noise." He dismissed and she moved from him, grateful that she could leave him. Gods, there was only so much of his taunts she could take before snapping.

There was still no name for the little girl whose age was now a week. But she still had those beautiful. familiar green eyes that made her so pleased each time she saw her -it meant she wasn't all the monster. Sure enough though, she couldn't be as pure as her mother. The dark locks that thickly covered her little head reminded her of the cruel man in the next room, the only thing that visibly reminded her of him.

Emerald green eyes stared at her as the owner of them suckled hungrily and she smiled slightly. Those eyes were beautiful, and no savage father could that from her. She'd be a rare jewel when she grew older, there would be no doubt about it.

"Rather _ravenous_ little thing, isn't she?"

Startled green eyes looked to the door and she paled. "Are you going to take her from me?" She breathed and he paused for a moment before shaking his head. "No. Father has forbidden me from removing her from Winterfell and from you, stating in a dull and boring way that she could be used to further alliances when she grows old enough for such. I guess she'll be around to stay, won't she?" He quipped.

She frowned, fingers stroking over the fair black hair. "I don't understand why you hate her." She whispered, eyes wide and searching. "My father loved me even as though I were a son of his -he loved me no different from them. Why can't you just show her some sort of affection? It doesn't matter how small or how large, but just some."

He seemed to think it over before he walked forward and she steeled herself for a beating, surprised when none came and he crouched beside her. "I tell you what -I'll make you a deal."

"My father taught me not to make deals with the devil."

That brought back that awful smirk and he chuckled violently. "Well this one will benefit you and that little wretch in your arms, so do listen up, dear wife. You give me my son within two years, and I'll show her some sort of varied affection then, and only then. If you give me another girl, well, I don't think you want to know what I'll do."

"So I have to spread my legs and give you what you want just so you'll love your own daughter?" She whispered and he sighed dramatically, standing up and adjusting his sling ever so slightly. "You will do what I tell you to do, and it is as simple as that. Give her here."

Callidora stiffened. "What will you do to her?" She said anxiously and he smiled that sly smile. "Nothing painful, if that's what you mean. I want to look at her closer than looking at her nursing." He stated and with shaky hands, she lifted the little girl up and held her out, swallowing nervously. What was he going to do? He did, after all, proudly claim he was a liar.

She watched nervously as the little girl seemed to be at ease in the monsters arms. How could one so innocent be comfortable around one so cruel? It was nerve-wracking and he made a surprised sound. "For one so small, she does have her own mind, doesn't she?" He looked at her with smug slyness. "You think I'm going to drop her, don't you?"

An uncomfortable look appeared on her face. "I would be lying if I said no." She admitted and he smirked, looking at the small bundle in his arms. "I suppose she could be used to create alliances in the future once she's older. But you'll care for her, that is until I decide when I no longer need you. Give me another daughter and that time with shorten dramatically." He warned, roughly giving her the infant back.

Those emerald green eyes stared back at her and she frowned. _Esma_... "Esma," she whispered and he paused in his return back to the bedroom. "What did you just say?" He demanded and she recovered herself quickly. "Esma," she repeated with a small yet tight smile. "Is Esma alright as a name? It does sound alright with Bolton, as much as I don't want her to have that name."

He nodded once and then gave her that smirk again. "Isn't it too bad then that she was born into House Bolton?" He mocked and she scowled, her eyes moving back to the little girl who had a name. _Esma Bolton_... Oh, how she wished it could be Esma Marcellus instead...


	31. Chapter 31

And true to her word, that nasty wound on his shoulder had became infected. And yet, in spite of everything, she was made to continue to take care of him even when she didn't want to do so. Monsters didn't deserve saving.

She kept her face clear of emotions as she wiped the oozing fluid from the wound and he stared at her like he'd been doing for the last hour. Finally she snapped. "What?" She demanded and he smirked dangerously. "Just wondering about what you thought about the letters that I find so amusing." He said simply and she sighed, the hand holding a damp cloth stilling against his chest. "I gave them to you so you wouldn't hurt Esma, not for you to taunt me with them. I gave them to you and I didn't hide them from you this time, did I?"

He shrugged slightly. "I'm sure you would of had she not arrived earlier than planned. You're fighting an unending battle, my sweet Callidora. You still think you'll win, that your brothers will come rescue you from me. But when they come and I'm sure they will, you won't be worth saving and the thing that's even better, you won't want to be saved. You'll want me to take you in the dark, you'll want me to fill you with my sons because it gives you a purpose in life other than to look pretty and spread your legs." He sneered.

Her jaw tightened and she shook her head. "Yes, you might not let me leave and I might not be rescued, but I swear I will never, ever want you to rape me or fill me with your children. I hope you don't get any sons, I really do."

Disgust flared through her as he trailed his good hand belonging to his good arm over her free arm. "Is that so? You won't be bleeding like a gutted pig for long, Callidora." He reminded with a leering smile, his fingers dancing their way across her no longer swollen stomach. The excess weight had came off in a matter of days, no doubt due to the lack of eating she had done, only eating enough to provide enough milk for the little baby in the next room.

She shifted away with a scowl. "And you happen to be injured." She pointed out and he chuckled. "You don't think I can still fuck you?" He chuckled again, this time much more darkly. "My arm might be injured, Callidora, but the other parts of me are still intact. It won't be injured for long, and then I'm going to show you not to disrespect a Lord, much less a Bolton. We don't like being disrespected." He hinted.

Green eyes moved from him and looked out the window. The snow was coming down thick and fast outside and she sighed. "Can I go light the fire in here and in Esma's room? It's freezing." She asked, changing the subject. Talking about being raped was not something she looked forward to, even though she knew it would happen, that didn't mean she had to talk about it to the monster.

He nodded wordlessly and she placed the cloth down, heading into the room next door first. The little girl was sleeping in her crib, the sight making her smile slightly. She looked so peaceful, not a clue in the world about the vile discussion taking place next door.

Flames were crackling in both fires when she returned to his bedside, albeit unwillingly. "Your wounds simply need bandaging. Where did the maid put them last night?" She asked calmly and he nodded in the direction of the shelving unit. She sighed. What was she, a maid now?


	32. Chapter 32

The day of doom was coming quicker than she thought it would. He was mostly healed, a few faded lines of white across his chest all that remained of those once infected injuries. And with full health came the taunts that she hadn't missed or longed for one little bit.

"Tomorrow eve." He declared and she stilled in her marvel of the baby whose eyes were beginning to droop in sleep. "What about it?" She whispered, a pair of green eyes moving to him as she turned her head so she was looking at him.

He tilted his head ever so slightly and grinned that devilish grin. "Don't act dumb, Callidora. I know you're coming to an end in your bleeding -a maid told me so. And once you cease bleeding, you're fit to do your duties again."

She grimaced, looking back down at Esma who was now wide awake. "Please give me longer." She whispered and he clicked his tongue, tutting mockingly at her. "You've had a full moon, Callidora. Ample enough time." He admonished playfully and she swallowed thickly. "Do I have to do disgusting things like last time?" She asked quietly and he smirked with a dark chuckle. "I'm not going to make you do anything."

Her green eyes narrowed slightly. "Liar," she accused and he grinned wider. "Yes, I am. You'll do what I tell you to do, you see? And if you want to be able to feed Esma the night after without being in pain, perhaps you should do some of those not so disgusting acts to make it a little easier for you, hm?" He hinted, reaching for the apple on his plate and his dagger at the same time.

She'd finished hers rather quickly, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible.

"And if I don't want to?" She asked slowly and he glanced up from his peeling. "If you don't? That is your choice, I suppose, but it would make it a little easier in the future for you if you just gave me what I wanted. I might even be inclined to keep you around longer if you did so too."

She shook her head. "And I know you lie. You can assault me and rape me and hurt me but I'm not doing those again."

He just gave her a leering smirk in response. "We'll see, Callidora, we'll see."

* * *

A smile bloomed over her face as she saw the first signs of one blooming onto Esma's little one. "Hey you." She whispered, little fists coming up to greet her as she spoke. Her lips pressed against the little knuckles and they smiled against the baby soft skin. "Yes, you. Beautiful girl."

"She can't understand you," came the sarcastic response and she sighed. "Yes, but at least I can talk but not be mocked in response." She called back and the sound of his approaching, heavy footsteps echoed through to her and she glanced up just as he appeared in the doorway of the small nursery. "I think I've reconsidered. Put her down and come with me."

It wasn't hard to know what he was hinting at and she paled. "But she needs changing and feeding." She whispered and he smiled that stomach curdling, fake pleasant smile. "Then do it quick. I don't like waiting."

Trying to supress her fear, she carefully guided the fussing babe to her chest and settled back, tears pooling in her eyes. She should of kept quiet, her mouth having gotten her into trouble yet again. He was going to make it hurt too in payback.

She had just finished nursing and after winding, and then as she went to change the sated little girl, he made himself known. "Now, Callidora." He said impatiently and she shuddered, face twisting into a grimace. If she took more time, he'd be more violent. Carefully placing the now clean little girl into her rich wooden crib, she walked slowly into the other room, pulling the door shut behind her with tearful yet blank eyes.

"You know what to do." He said simply from where he stood looking out of the window, his back to her. She glanced at the forward ties on her dress and reached up to pull at them, hearing him come closer. "Not so strong now, are you, hm? You belong to me, and if you disrespect me, I will make sure to keep you in your place."

Those vile hands ripped at her dress and shoved her forward, her eyes watering as he wasted no more time and pain like no other ripped through her.

* * *

Her limbs felt sorer than usual and she ate quietly, chewing the piece of meat slowly. He glanced at her. "Don't frown. Remember, it makes you age." He jested with a mocking playfulness and she looked away from him. "And now you're pouting?"

She looked at him squarely and gave him a long, defying stare. He just smirked in response. "I'm not afraid of anything, Callidora, least of all a small, weak willed lady such as yourself. You've given yourself to me of your own free will numerous times, I might add, and you spread your legs and moaned my name willingly, because you wanted it."

He chuckled as though it were a sick joke and she swallowed thickly, swallowing the emotion that threatened to burst out of her like a plague. "And I don't want to do it again." She said quietly and he chuckled again. "We'll see. Go feed the child and then come to bed." He said pointedly and she hesitated but nodded, albeit unwillingly, and stood, moving into the next room. He was such a bastard and a monster.

The little girl in her small wooden crib voiced her protest as her mother lifted her out of the warmth, her face turning red. "Hush now," she whispered, fearing that if she were to make too much noise, the monster would become irritated and infuriated and might reconsider his thought of sparing her.

Big fat tears rolled down her little cheeks and she shushed her repeatedly, desperation filling her on the inside. "Shush." She breathed, rubbing a hand up and down her little back while she tried to comfort her, the cries slowly ending into hiccups. Her face was still red, but at least the cries had came to a stop. That was good at least in the big situation of things, she supposed.

She settled into feeding quickly and Callidora sighed wearily. Now the torture was back...That wouldn't be good if she became pregnant straight away before Esma was even a year old. She didn't want that, especially if the said child turned out to be another girl. He'd be furious. And the pain and the horror would never stop.

"I'll never let you forget me." She whispered, more to herself than to the little girl whose eyes struggled to remain open while she sated herself. "I'll make sure you know something other than pain and the horrors of life." Her fingers stroked over the baby soft dusting of black hair. "I promise."

Ramsay was watching her with those cold, blue eyes as she came into the room, softly shutting the door behind her. She refused to look at him as she walked over to where he had seated himself on the bed and she paled slightly as she sat down on the opposite side. "What happens now?" Came her shaky reply.

"You know what happens. Come here."

When she hesitated, he smirked. "Now -you should know I hate repeating myself." He chuckled and she moved back, eyes refusing to meet his as he moved closer, a shudder rippling through her as he stroked one disgusting finger down the back of her neck. "Why so jittery?" He mocked and she moved restlessly. "Because I don't like you."

That spine chilling chuckle made her heart race faster than a speeding horse. "And that doesn't concern me, Callidora. I just want my son from you."

A hand locked around her throat and she spluttered out her air, feeling that hand tighten as she found herself flung back and as a hand ripped at her nightgown, the world around her blurred and then fell into darkness, blue eyes smirking devilishly at her as it did.


	33. Chapter 33

Callidora startled awake, her eyes watering as her hand came up to rub at her bruised throat. It hurt, the agonised throbbing making her wince as she swallowed, the motion not the easiest action to do. Her green eyes turned poisonous as they moved to the sleeping man beside her. Oh, how she wished she could kill him, choke the life out of her like he bruised the spirit and the fight out of her.

But could she though? Esma would be free from a life of unknown brutality, free to make her own choices and not have them planned out for by a maniac. She could be a beautiful girl, more so if her bastard father wasn't around to ruin her life.

She settled back, eyes glaring up at the wooden ceiling. Oh, how she wished she could end his hurtful, meaningless existence and save so many in the process. She just wanted her life back, no matter the cost.

Sleep didn't come to her that night, and from the time the sun began to hint at its existence over the snow covered hills, she spent it in the adjoining room, keeping the beautiful little girl in the next room occupied and not making a single sound to rouse the beast in the next room. She was the light to the darkness, the one thing in this horrible yet once beautiful place that made life worth living.

The monster roused as the sun rose high, the bright beams coming through the windows. He came to the room in an instant, mouth curling into a cruel smirk as soon as he laid eyes on the sleeping woman and the baby that was swaddled in her arms, green eyes looking around silently. He moved over, his footsteps almost silent against the cold stone floor. A hand brushed a few matted strands of hair that stuck to her sweated skin, and then, without warning, the fingers gripped and pulled.

Green eyes flew open and she looked up unsteadily, those green irises watering as the grip on the girl in her arms tightened. "I don't believe I told you to leave the bed, Callidora..."

Her bottom lip trembled. "I was k-keeping her quiet." She whispered and he hummed, releasing her hair and placing a finger under her chin. He tipped it up so she was looking straight at him and nowhere else. "Were you now? I want to revisit the subject of whose sending those insolent little notes to you, promising all kinds of gifts that'll never happen. I've ran out of prisoners to flay, and none of the whores have put a foot out of place so far so I'm running out of excuses to entertain me."

She swallowed anxiously. "You usually don't need a reason to hurt someone." She whispered and he chuckled devilishly, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the early morning light. "Correct, but with father here, I can't be so, _impulsive_ , as I usually am. I'll just keep myself entertained with you instead. Do you like games, my lady?"

"No," she muttered, glancing quickly at the now dozing baby in her arms, the life she was holding now oblivious to the dangerous conversation taking place. "I don't like games."

He smirked. "Well too bad. We're going to play a game, and you're going to play along or there'll be dire consequences if you don't. Place the child in her bed, and I suggest you join me for breakfast, and then we'll play this _game_."

* * *

Bruises lined her thighs, her head twisted to the side as glassed eyes stared out the window and to freedom. Her inner thighs and the area between were numb, both having lost feeling long ago and now bruised and wounded. Her throat was covered with bruises on its own, red marks now adding to the list of injuries that hurt so painfully. He seemed intent on making her suffer.

This game was not a game -it was torture. It was brutal torture. He seemed to be punishing her for something, the something more than likely the fact that she didn't show him as much, _attention_ , as she usually did. It was awful. Her stomach curdled as he moved those disgusting lips over her sore throat. She tried to keep her calm expression going, but her bottom lip began to shake after a minute or two.

She wanted to run, to hide from him and his cruel, cruel ways and to take the precious bundle in the next room with her. She didn't deserve this life, and it didn't look like it was going to get better either.

It was minutes later when he let her go and a choked up sob ripped from within her, the sound echoing around the room, the sound of empty despair. A dark snicker accompanied the soul crushing sound and the owner behind it moved beside her, tauntingly flicking the matted strands of hair off of her bruised neck. "Now, now." He mocked.

Her eyes refused to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but her mind was defiant and moved the green orbs over to stare unseeingly at him. It just made the awful, dangerously wicked smug smirk grow. "Don't look at me like that." He admonished with a snide grin. "You were slacking in your duties and I wanted you to make them up, and you just did in your dramatic silence."

The glee in his voice made her sick and she went to turn her head away but he gripped her chin and held it in place. "And don't look from me when I'm talking to you either, Callidora. Being raised as a princess, you should have manners, and you seem to have none!" He was taunting her and she didn't like it one bit.

"I have them, just not for you." She whispered, her voice cracking due to the markings on her throat. It was dangerous to challenge him, she knew that, but he was just so infuriating. Her bottom lip quivered, and he rubbed his thumb roughly over it, eyes smirking at her boldness. "I'm so wounded." He taunted.

An answering sound of loneliness came from the answering room and she went to get up but he stopped her with a dark smirk. "I'll get her." He breathed and her eyes went wide and she struggled against him. "No," she pleaded and he chuckled wildly. "Calm yourself, Callidora. I can't hurt her, can I? Do stop struggling woman." He said with amused eyes, releasing her with a mocking wiggle of his finger at her and he strode off into the other room, leaving her shaking in fear at what he might do to her.

So she strained to hear him; there was nothing to hear for he came into the room in an instant, unceremoniously placing the red faced infant on her numb knees and chuckling darkly to himself. "Did you think I would drop her, Callidora? Injure her, maim her? I'm forbidden from doing that, and I quite like living myself. Death would be dull and boring without you to entertain me with all your ever so frightful yet feeble resistance of submitting to being the mare you are."

Trying not the react to what he said, she focussed her attentions on the precious cargo on her lap and lifted her up with the utmost care. Watering green eyes stared back and she stared into them, trying to see what made something so innocent so at ease in the presence of a vile monster. It was confounding to not know that.

"Like I said, I have no ill will towards her, but you, on the other hand? Unless you give me a son next, Callidora, worrying about how you'll fare in the bed will be the very least of your concerns. I want that son, I _need that son_ if I am to have a hold on The North. Do you understand?"

Green eyes met blue ones and she remained silent but gave a slight tip of her head, although her lip curled in disgust at what he was demanding of her. A son would seal her fate forever. She would never have a chance to be free, and that was terrifying, paralysing her insides in their fight for freedom.

Callidora looked back at Esma, trying to envision a time where everything would be different and she would be free from oppression and hurt, but somehow, that just didn't seem possible.

 **Author note:** Yeah, haven't updated in over a year, so here's a **double** update for you guys! Apologies for the long, _long_ wait!


	34. Chapter 34

Her hand curled around the bladed knife as though it were a priceless artefact, a beacon of freedom. She cleaned it with a handkerchief and stashed it under the pillows and looked around anxiously.

The monster was off doing goodness knows what and she was glad to be left alone with the one innocent person in this whole place. The little girl herself was on the pelt beside her, little arms strained as she laid on her stomach, bright green eyes staring around curiously. The sight made her smile slightly, and she rubbed a finger over the pudgy cheek. How could one so beautiful and precious and innocent also come from someone so cruel and disgusting and sadistic? It didn't make sense to be honest.

Carefully, she took the little girl into her arms and sighed. But to be truthful, the only part of her that was the monster was the colour of her hair, and that was all that bothered her. She looked just like her, other than the hair colour that was, and that was all that mattered. But she knew what would happen if he didn't have that son that he claimed to need so desperately.

Yes, if his father was to sire a son in the next years then he could lose his claim to The North, not that she cared -it wasn't even Bolton land to begin with! It belonged to the Stark house, not Bolton. How on earth they believed it would remain like that eluded her, and she didn't want to find out either...

* * *

The monster came back when then sun sank low on the horizon, and she knew where he'd been for the nail marks on his neck were proof enough. So he was at it again and relief filled her as though a waterfall of it had come crashing around her and she was in the middle of the emotion. Maybe he wouldn't be so forceful now that he was bedding the whores...

Wrong, apparently.

He wasted no time in coming towards her and underneath the pillow, her hand curled around the handle of the blade she was hiding. Her chest heaved with every fearful breath it expelled. It was now or never, and if she were to do it, she would be free, but only from the abuse and the torment. Esma was part of him and with that little girl by her side, she'd never be rid of the thought of him.

But she turned as he gripped her waist, the cool metal edge flush against his throat. He glanced at it in surprise, and then that awful, cruel smirk spread across his face. That wasn't a good sign.

"Going to kill me, Callidora? I'm amazed to find you've grown balls in the last hours I've been gone." He chuckled to himself, staring at her expectantly. "Come on, my dear wife, we both know you won't do anything that could have an effect on the child in the next room, don't we? You'd never do something that could lead to her being hurt or perhaps even slaughtered because her mother committed an _unspeakable_ crime..." He whispered, mocking her, taunting her.

Her bottom lip quivered and the hand holding the knife shook too. He saw it and smirked lowly, continuing to talk. "Put the knife down, Callidora. You'll only be making life harder for yourself if you don't. Put it down, and I won't touch you tonight, or the next night for that matter. Put it down, and I'll go see that daughter of mine. Put it down, and once you've given me a son, I'll let you go."

That made her hesitate and that was all he needed. An arm slammed against her throat, breath spluttering out of her mouth. Her grip on the knife loosened as well and he gripped it from her in an instant, the arm still pressed against her throat.

The monster chuckled to himself while she stared in horror at the blade that he twirled around in his hand. "You give in too easily, as always. Did you truly think that I would let you leave here? You're mine, and I don't let what belongs to me go and belong to something else. You're a Bolton now, and perhaps you should start acting like one, hm? Bolton's aren't weak, pitiful, like you."

"How would you know?" She wheezed out, going for the places that would sting. "You're a Snow, not a Bolton."

That made the fire burn once more in his eyes and he clenched his jaw visibly, the arm on her throat pressing down a little harder. Her nails dug into the skin there while he trailed the blunt edge of the knife down her other arm. He chuckled suddenly. "If only I could rid myself of you," he sighed as though it were the most beautiful thought in the world. "But, I can't, and yet, still you disappoint and amuse me at the same time."

"Then kill me." Callidora whimpered, trying still to force the arm that was pressed against her throat away. "I don't want to be here."

He laughed wildly, the sound terrifying her more than the dangerous smirk that blinded her. It was as though he was tipping on the edge of insanity, and it frightened her more than she would ever show, not to him at least.

"Do you think I _care_ if you want to be here? Do you think I _care_ about what you want? Or how you feel?"

The words tore at her insides and she blinked up at him while struggling to maintain her composure. He chuckled darkly while trailed the blade down her bare arm, and red beads followed in its path. She grimaced but made no sound, her eyes screwed up as she tried to control herself. _Must not give in, must not give in_!

He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and he then grabbed the front of her dress, one that she'd had to mend, and slashed it apart once again. She glanced away from him but he smirked and forced her head back so she was looking at him with nowhere else to look. "Perhaps you need a reminder of who you belong to now, hm?"

Her lip curled into a sneer and she shoved feebly against him with all the strength she could muster. He didn't move a centimetre and she grimaced as her shoulder erupted into pain, the sharp blade having been slashed against there as she'd attempted to escape his grasp.

Ice blue eyes landed upon red rivers that were trickling down the creamy skin, and a sadistic grin was bared toothily in her direction. "See what happens when you struggle?" He tapped the wounded area with the flat side to the dreaded blade. A low whistle came through his teeth. "This is pointless, Callidora. Do you expect to overcome the might of the Bolton's on yourself, with no one here to assist you? It would be nothing short of suicide!" He jeered at her, her green eyes watering in response to the hurtful albeit truthful taunts. It was true; she was doomed.


	35. Chapter 35

Not even three months later and the sickness struck her. Callidora was miserable. She wasn't even allowed near Esma, for the fear that she could pass something onto the only Bolton heir apparent after her bastard father.

The bastard himself was allowed near her, unfortunately, and there were crude jokes and jests made about her even while she struggled to hold onto life. Scratches, amongst other things, covered his throat for all to bear witness too, and in a sense, she was relieved; he had another poor soul to brutalize while she laid somewhat comatose on the bed they shared. He hadn't taken advantage of her, _yet_ , and for that and that only, she was grateful.

About a fortnight after she fell to the sickness, familiar and horrifying symptoms that weren't associated with the sickness she had began to emerge. The vomiting increased tenfold, ensuring she couldn't keep a single morsel of the food she struggled to get down inside her. And the tenderness of her breasts; in the beginning, she had put it down to not needing to nurse Esma anymore, for her supply of the sustenance that her daughter needed had all but dried up.

But when coupled with the extreme fatigue and increased vomiting and breast tenderness, she knew one of those definitely for sure had nothing to do with her illness, and her monthly moonsblood -that had not came either.

The bastard knew something was suspicious about the last symptom, and one night, a week before Esma was five months old, he brought up that which she had been dreading, and Maester Wolkan in tow behind him just simply confirmed it for her.

His ice blue eyes unnervingly stared at her. "I've asked Maester Wolkan here to confirm that which I suspect." He began, and she blinked through the fatigued haze that plagued her mind. He smiled that sickening, grin bearing smile that told her worse was yet to come. "And," he added, "let us hope that the end result of this time shall mutually more pleasing than the last time." He stated, the underlying, not so hidden threat ringing loud and clear in her mind.

The timid Maester wasted no time in making sure, and the all too obvious diagnosis was crushing to her resistance that she had tried to keep holding strong in her wearying mind. She was with child once more, and this time, she knew all to well this would seal her fate once and for all, and if it wasn't what he wanted from her, it would seal the little girl with the green eye's fate too.

* * *

The flurries of snow outside the glassless window were all she had, that was until the bastard returned, and she asked what she'd had on her mind in an instant. "I want to see Esma."

Ramsay raised a dark thick brow at her. "Is that so? You aren't well enough yet, and well, considering she is after all the only Bolton heir as of yet after myself, it would be rather unfortunate should you pass on the sickness you still have, I'll remind you, onto her."

Those were not words of concern, that much she knew. Her facial expression became almost pleadingly like. "I need to see her!" She begged, almost ashamed that she was lowering herself to such a thing around him. "I haven't seen her in almost a full month! I'm missing more than I should be."

He smirked, ever so slightly. "And as I've just come from seeing her, I can assure you, she will be quite alright in the room further down the hall from here with her caregiver as of now."

Red hot fury sparked within her and she threw back the heavy furs she had been laying under. "At least tell me one of your filthy whores isn't near to her or even caring for her as of this moment." She spat and he chuckled, the sound making her insides curl and die. "Not of yet, although talk to me like that, and you'll not see her for a long time." He responded.

Callidora fumed, but she sat down once more, her eyes still directing her seething hate towards him. "I do have a question," she stated after a moment of tense silence, and he glanced briefly her way before looking into the roaring flames of the fireplace and shrugging his thick, heavy fur cloak off. "What is it?"

She swallowed her fears. "What will you do should this child be male? Will I be allowed a break from having your offspring? Esma is not even half a year old and I am with child again." She inquired and he chuckled, an awful, stomach churning sound that told her before he'd even spoke that this was not going to be what she hoped for.

"Tell me something, dear _wife_ ," he hissed those words, and it just furthered her fears when those icy blue eyes looked at her with ill-concealed amusement. "What do you believe your purpose to be? An advisor, a shoulder to cry on, a _friend_?" He scoffed at the last one, a cruel smirk twisting his pale features as he saw her swallow anxiously.

He stood beside where she laid in that large bed that gave him the means to cause her pain come nightfall. His smirk remained, and he flicked a strand of her red hair off of her sweat covered face. "No, you exist and your one sole purpose is to give me a son, and that is what you'll do until I have one. Esma is none of your concern at the moment. She's survived over a month without you, so she can cope with a few extra weeks." He stated sadistically, and tears brewed in her eyes. "I just want my daughter." She whispered weakly, her voice cracking pathetically, and she hated herself for it.

Ramsay chuckled, moving away and going to look out of the window, brushing off some of the snow that had found its way there. "And you'll have her, once you won't kill her with the sickness you have." He concluded, turning back just in time to see her tears that trickled down pale cheeks at her agony.


	36. Chapter 36

Her green eyes met their exact replicas when she awoke after a dozen mornings, and Callidora shot out of her bed in an instant, her hands slipping under her daughter as carefully as she could not to frighten the child. She couldn't believe her eyes and they brewed tears of happiness within them that then trickled down her still pale cheeks.

The little girl in her trembling arms gave something akin to a gurgling squeal in response, butting her raven haired head into the hollow of her throat. She just melted backwards into the thick pelts that lined the bed around her, cradling Esma to her chest as though she would vanish once more and never be seen again. The little girl was just content enough to lay there and cuddle, indicating she'd missed her as well.

Ramsay didn't return until late that night, and she still held that precious little bundle to her chest, Esma having long gone to sleep once she'd been fed by the nurse, someone Callidora wasn't sure if she liked or not. He eyed mother and child before pulling his heavy fur cloak off, the removal of it releasing the little flurries of snow that'd been trapped in its heavy folds. "I had a conversation with Wolkan."

Her green eyes moved from the sleeping baby to where he stood, and she wondered why on earth he would be talking with the timid Maester who shook at the mere sound of his voice. "What about?" She asked quietly, and he smirked, walking over and taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside her, his ice blue eyes moving between she and Esma, the little girl unaware of the evil beside her.

Ramsay looked back at Callidora. "He seems to think we should keep," those ice blue eyes shone with a certain slyness she couldn't place, " _fucking_ , for according to a recent series of letters exchanged with another Maester, it appears to ensure an easier pregnancy as compared to one who hasn't _fucked_ during when the woman is with child."

Her eyed widened in, well she wasn't sure whether it was horror or downright shock at the fact that he had actually managed to have this conversation with a Maester who couldn't look him completely in the eyes when they talked, on the rare time they did.

Callidora tried to suppress the bubbling nausea. "I'm sure I'll be just fine without _fucking_ ," she retorted, the vulgar word unfamiliar on her tongue. He grinned that grin that made her anxious without fail, and he chuckled. "Your loss." She raised a brow. _Her loss_? Don't think so. He turned to face her. "Oh, and I wasn't suggesting it either. Wolkan seems to think it'll stop this child being born earlier than it should be, like the last one was, for instance. If there is a chance that I might get my son, _this time_ , then we'll do everything that cowardly man says to ensure it all goes as smoothly as possible. I want that son." The pleasant, _somewhat pleasant_ , façade dropped and she, having no idea where such courage came from, answered back. "And what if I were to refuse such?"

A sharp smirk was directed towards her. "Then think about who'd suffer the most, should she not see her mother until the said woman accepted that this was not a debate, and opened her legs. And no fighting, this time. I want something from you in return if I'm to play my part in ensuring this all goes much more easily for you, as after all, you're the one carrying it."

Callidora glanced at Esma, not a fool as to what he was insinuating. She swallowed her pride, or what was left of it that was, and nodded, albeit reluctantly, and he grinned. "Glad you're starting to see things my way at last." He added as a final taunt, and she withheld her tears. What was her life coming to?

* * *

She wasn't surprised when a letter appeared but a day later, and while the bastard hadn't touched her yet like he said he was going to, she knew if she didn't give it to him and he found it himself, things would be far worse and greatly more painful when he came to doing do. She handed it to him when he returned from hunting _animals_ , unopened, and went back to caring for Esma like nothing had happened. The bastard just watched her with a smirk before he opened it for himself, read it with dangerous, ice blue eyes, and then without further ado, burned it in the roaring flames of the fireplace. He glanced at her after he was sure it was completely gone. "You're learning, I see." He began and she shrugged, holding the precious, dozing ebony haired girl with those enchanting green eyes to her chest as she looked out into the cold, swirling snow storm. "Anything I do that displeases you either comes back onto myself," she whispered, feeling him walking up behind her, those pain inflicting hands coming to rest on the tops of her arms. "Or on Esma," she finished, her eyes watering as she scoffed. "What is the point of this anymore?" She wondered out loud. "I resist, you beat me down in the worst ways imaginable, raping me over and over again until I fall with child again, like now, or you withhold my daughter from me, the only ray of light I have in this cold place. My brothers say they'll rescue me, and yet, where are they? I've been failed, in more ways than one by them. It should never have gotten to this point if they truly wanted to save me from your evil clutches." She said solemnly, her green eyes looking at that little baby who was just content to lay there in her arms, oblivious to the severity of the conversation going on around her little raven haired head.

Those hands on her shoulders felt like chains, and when he spoke, she could hear the smirk in his voice as he did so. "Well, won't you be _pleased_ to know that your brothers have abandoned you then." She whirled around, green eyes brewing with tears at his words. "What?" She gasped out through beginning sobs and he nodded, that smirk still on his face as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Well, when news of your predicament reached them, they practically disowned you, my dear Callidora. It was in the letter I just burned. Yes, they said they can't let a son be born, so they'll kill it before it is, and what do you think that means?"

Tears of betrayal trickled down her pale, clammy cheeks. "Kill me." She whispered, her heart shattering at the thought of those she loved wanting to kill her, just so she couldn't give birth. There were many ways to kill the infant that didn't result in the death of the mother, and yet, they'd decided to kill both her and the unborn child. She dashed away her tears angrily. "How do I know you aren't lying?" She demanded and he chuckled, taking a seat at the small table she typically ate her meals at. "They said they'd be withdrawing their forces, and burning your name off of their monument that they have at the castle you once called home." He stated and she withheld her wail of despair, her facial expression betraying her as it twisted into something that could only be described as complete and utter grief. The burning of someone's name from the monument was a secret kept within the house of Marcellus, and from that statement alone, she knew he was telling the horrific truth.

She tightened her hold on Esma before looking at him straight on, wiping her tears away once again. "I want them all gone." She stated with a look in her eyes that he'd not seen before. "I will do whatever you want, and I mean anything, just kill them." She finished, swallowing the tatters of her pride in exchange for revenge, and she wasn't surprised when he smirked smugly. "Anything? You got a deal."

* * *

She cried herself to sleep that night while he talked with his father, undoubtedly about how he'd gotten her to come over to their side amid her brothers betrayal.

He returned when she was sleeping, the tears streaks still wet upon her face causing him to smirk as it showed just how she'd fallen asleep. Now was the time for games, under the cover of darkness, a game only adults could play. He could hear movement in the adjoining room, letting him know that his daughters nurse was in there with the child, and wasting no time at all, he slipped into the thick warm pelts that covered the bed, and Callidora, his hands going for the tie in her nightdress immediately. She made a sound in her sleep, green eyes blinking softly before her head turned and those green irises focussed on himself. He gave her a look, challenging her to refuse, and was a little more than surprised when she merely reached for the strings that held her nightdress shut, pulling them open and pushing the said garment down her changing body, the clothing becoming lost between the numerous pelts above them.

He took a second to look at her, at the changes he could see in the dim light that came from the one candle he'd brought with him into the room. The changes from this latest pregnancy were apparent almost immediately -her stomach, normally flat from the times he'd seen during brutal sessions under both darkness and light, had a slight rounding to it, definitely not from becoming fat like that Frey bitch. Her breasts had changed too since they were no longer required to sustain the child in the next room, and yet they seemed larger than ever, the rings around the nipples a dark colour, different than before she'd had her daughter.

Callidora swallowed, fear building up inside. What was he doing, playing with her so she feared his every little move? She already did, but was he trying to made it worse or something?

She remembered his words about how it could come back to Esma, something she feared more than anything, and keeping that thought in the front of her mind, she reached up, violently shaking hands reaching for the thick, leather jacket he always wore, and she tugged it off, her still trembling hands going for his shirt next, and then she heard the movement in the adjoining room, this time much closer to the door than its owner should be, and he looked back at it. "So father sent a spy, did he?" He hissed, and she quivered underneath him, not sure what his next reaction would be, other than rage, more likely that being followed by blood spillage of the nurse who she knew she'd had a bad vibe about.

He smirked a dangerous, unstable smirk. "Well then, let's give him something to be told." He spat, hands fumbling at his belt before he pulled himself out and spearing into her in the same movement, an action so violent, a groaning moan choked itself out of her before she could stop its exit. He wasn't gentle, instead intent in seemingly bruising her inner thighs just to prove a point, or so it seemed. He moved quickly, giving her no time to recover her stolen oxygen as he delivered thrust after thrust after thrust into her bewildered body. He glared down at her, and she wasn't sure then if he was angry at her for some reason, or at the individual who was still at the door from the shadow she could see under it.

His ice blue eyes were _burning_ , and after another quick glance at the door, he seemed to get angrier almost, for he resumed his actions, this time setting up an almost brutal speed that made her legs and insides shake against her control, and when his hand trailed down to a place that buzzed, she lost control, a loud sound echoing from her mouth that she was sure it would wake up the sleeping infant in the next room. It was beyond her control now, and for some reason, she didn't care. She made numerous noises, each one spurring him on just that little bit more. Her back arched, and she shook in his grasp, something wet and warm spreading inside of her when he gave a loud and heavy grunt just above her left ear. That wet feeling sparked her own euphoria, a feeling out of her control, and an unwillingly released moan choked out, her limbs shaking.

He pushed himself off of her harshly while she still shook, her senses coming back to her as she tried to grasp what the hell had just happened. The shadow under the door retreated, seemingly satisfied, and he adjusted himself, cold blue eyes fixed on the ceiling up above. She was almost afraid to move, wondering what he would do next now they didn't have to _play_ to an audience, so to speak. He didn't do anything though, just stared up at the ceiling before getting up to blow the candle out. "Consider that as part of your _'anything'_ ," he said in a dealthy, angry voice before rolling over, leaving her to think.


	37. Chapter 37

Much to her surprise, he took her to his next council about the Bolton armies that included his father and the lords allied to the Bolton house. He'd ordered her maid, a timid elderly woman, to dress her in a dress that showed off the swelling of her stomach, and the old woman hadn't disappointed either. She'd dressed Callidora in a tight fitting, dark green gown with a gold embellished collar and matching sleeve cuffs, the pregnant woman's hair left up in a simple updo. He could clearly see the swelling bulge of her growing middle, and as they walked into the hall together where the meeting was taking place, she still confused as to why she was there, he watched all all eyes focussed in on the bulge as he'd first done when he saw how obvious it was. His father raised a brow, seemingly pleased and satisfied by what he saw before him, and then turned his attention back to the map of the North.

Callidora wasn't thick -she knew all too well why she was there instead of with Esma, the little girl looking as though she were fit to take off, always sitting on her haunches and rocking herself, testing how strong she was becoming and if she could be mobile enough yet to crawl. She just hoped she didn't miss it.

Roose looked at her as she came a standstill between himself and his son, and he glanced back at the old map before back at her. "My son tells me you no longer are allied to your house, Lady Bolton." He announced, and she saw different emotions cross the faces of the other Lords around them. He saw them too and looked pointedly at her. "Perhaps you would care to demonstrate such a claim by showing myself and these Lords where Marcellus armies are so we can wipe them out?" He stated and she hummed under her breath, eyes meeting ice blue and she glaced to her right, to where his son stood. He gave her a look back, reminding her of her promise to him about how she'd do anything, and she nodded. "Give me an hour, some parchment, ink, and I'll write down all locations for you." She replied, her eyes blank as they moved out the weathered map that had clearly seen better days.

Roose looked to his left to one of the many servants around them, and ordered her to be given some. One of the Lords she recognised from House Karstark gave a little scoff. "Last we heard, _my lady_ , you were holding strong in defence of your brothers, and now we must simply believe you've had a sudden change of heart? How do we know you won't simply betray us all and end up getting us all slaughtered like pigs?" He accused.

Her green eyes found his considerably darker ones, and she hummed softly. "I suppose it is strange, is it not, that here I am, willing to throw my brethren to the wolves?" She wondered out loud before giving a soft chuckle under her breath. "You see, that was before they threatened to kill my not even a year old daughter, and my unborn child, along with myself, and withdrew their support of myself and burned my name from our monument. I've had more than a mere change of heart, Lord Karstark. I want them dead." She replied back before accepting the ink along with the parchment that was held out to her and retreating the the table that was in the corner.

She listened to their talks while she wrote out all of the locations for the settlements and camps that House Marcellus had, along with the sizes and purposes of each, such as how many men she vaguely knew to be within each camp, and how many men House Marcellus had under their command the last time she tried to flee. The Lords would occasionally glance over at where she sat, writing, one hand unconsciously resting on her swollen midriff. She knew she wasn't far enough to feel movement, but she also knew she wasn't that far off, and that anything was possible. Her mother had said she and Nathaniel had been early movers.

Nathanial... She wondered if he'd gone along with their brothers decision as easily as their other brothers had done, and she didn't have to wait long to find out, for no sooner had that thought left her mind, a servant came in with a letter addressed to the Lord of Winterfell. Roose took it, opened it, and made a sound under his breath before walking over to where she sat. "It would appear not all of your brothers have abandoned you, _Lady Bolton_." He said, those last words a more forceful, drawn out sentence. She took the letter he held out before carefully opening it.

 _To the Lord of Winterfell,_

 _I pledge my support and loyalty to you, not my brothers, who as I sit writing this, are plotting the murder of their own sister, my Callie. I will arrive with over a thousand and a half men that are loyal to me, and I pledge them to your service. I will arrive within the next moon, and although bad blood between us over the marriage of my sister to your son has caused conflict in the past year, I hope you will receive my loyalty and support to your cause in a more positive manner than it was previously possible to do so._

 _I look forward to our next meeting_

 **Nathanial Marcellus**

Callidora read it with wide eyes and she looked to Roose who was gauging her reaction carefully. She handed it back to him. "Will the accept? He won't have deflected without reason, and he isn't that good of a liar either." She commented and he hummed in response, looking at her writings curiously. "I'll see what he has to offer. His proposal of over a thousand men is very helpful, especially if Stannis decides to attack like the old man is threatening to do so. He will not interfere in your marriage to Ramsay, or in the upbringing of your daughter, I warn you now. I suspect plotting, mischief and murder, and I'll kill him in front of you, do you understand?"

She finished writing the last little bit of her knowledge and nodded, using the table to help her up before she handed to page of parchment to him, an understanding look in her eyes. "I understand clearly." She replied, meeting ice blue eyes over his shoulder, and to her extreme worry, she saw they were glaring ferociously at her, something she didn't like whatsoever.

* * *

Callidora was right; Ramsay was more than furious at the impending arrival of her twin, and he more than took it out of her expectant body that night, her soft whimpers and whispers of pain muffled by the pillow her face was pressed in as he took her from behind like a bitch. He was still the monster mothers warned their children about, and all that had changed was that she'd accepted her fate, somewhat.

He used her numerous times during the night, once during while she slept beside him dreamlessly, her mind churning. She awoke for the last few minutes of his assault, falling into an exhausted sleep once more where she remained for a little over an hour before he woke her up once more, already mounting her from behind, his blackened fingers already digging into her severely bruised flesh.

He was still at this endless cycle when the maid came to light the fire once more just before dawn. Her cheeks flamed in mortified embarrassment, a sight that made his dangerous smirk grow. She gave a painful groan in response, burying her head in those soft, inviting pillows that she only wished she could rest her head upon to sleep, not be fucked.

It was light outside when he finally let her sleep, their mixed fluids dried and caked to her inner thighs. She had never been so tired in her life, and he hadn't even released her properly before she was unconscious, this time in a sleep so deep that nothing he could've done would've roused her this time around. He too went to sleep, although he still simmered with fury.

She awoke again when the sun was high in the pale winter sky, he still asleep beside her. It startled her with how _normal_ and _almost human_ he looked, how he didn't look as though he'd committed half the unspeakable crimes that he'd done. She winced loudly as she got up, her nether region in complete agony. Hobbling, she picked up her nightgown and pulled it back on from where he'd thrown it, relieved not to see no tears in the soft fabric. Quietly, she deftly braided her untidy and tangled hair, and then headed for the door to the adjoining room, wincing with each step she took, unaware of the smirk on his face behind her from where he laid as he listened.

Esma was alone, having clearly been fed recently, her legs kicking through the fur that served to keep her warm. Her kicking increased as she saw Callidora, her baby babbling making her mother smile in spite of her pain. Pressing a kiss to her little chubby cheeked face, she made her way back into the other room, quietly closing the door as not to wake the supposedly sleeping man who still laid, as still as could be, in the large pelt covered bed. She eyed him for a moment, thinking she saw his eyes open, but shook her head and took a seat in front of the still burning fire, the little girl still babbling as her almost eight month old self tucked itself into her mothers loving, gentle embrace.

Callidora looked at Esma; how could something so beautiful of came from an act so horrid? She pressed a soft kiss to the pudgy cheeked baby, settling back as the baby wormed itself closer to her. She was precious, and she'd never let her go, ever.

A noise captured her attention and her head moved in the direction of the bed, Esma looking up also, her green eyes not finding the sight that they witnessed a threat. Blue eyes stared back, an unnerving sight as Callidora wondered just how long he'd been awake for. She knew she'd seen his eyes open!

He smirked. "A lot of wincing coming from you, my dear wife. Does that mean you've received the message that your brother will not interfere in matters that do not concern him well?" He taunted, rising from the bed as bare as he was on the day he was born. She averted her eyes back to Esma, but nodded. "I understand," she answered. "I love my daughter, Ramsay," she stated, bravely using his given name instead of Lord Bolton. "Anything I do out of line threatens her safety. Only a fool would put her in harms way, and I'm no fool." She added.

He smirked as he came into her line of sight, having put of a pair of leather riding pants. He took a seat opposite her before narrowing his eyes dangerously. "I mean what I said. If Nathaniel tries to sabotage this little deal we have going at the current moment, if he tries to steal you from me, or my daughter, and he harms my unborn child, my possible son, I will flay him myself and do it as slowly and painfully as possible. Consider yourself warned, and should he try some sort of trickery, I'll make his death agonising." He scowled, and she nodded, releasing her grip on Esma so the little baby could go to the floor and use the furniture to cruise around. "I'm not up for trickery, my Lord, not when my child is at risk. I'll never do anything to risk her life, nothing at all." She added and he nodded, ice blue eyes drifting to the fireplace and to the dancing flames that burned within -they reflected in his eyes. He then glanced at the child who was currently using his left leg to hold herself up. She looked up at him, and in a move so hidden she almost missed it, his index finger moved over her right hand in an almost gentle caress before he removed it, leaving her unsure to what she saw.


	38. Chapter 38

Callidora stood at the gates beside Ramsay, the latter watching the approaching army and its leader as though he was imagining flaying them all -he more than likely was, she mused, waiting herself with mixed feelings as to how she felt right now. It was a strange occasion, that much she'd admit. Roose was to her far, far left, the Frey woman beside him, she too quiet as she watched the approaching army.

Green eyes glanced to her right before she spoke. "I will not bow to _any_ of my brothers," she murmured and she saw a ghost of a smirk appear before blue eyes looked to her green ones. "Maybe you should bow to your husband after dark tonight, my lady. I'm sure he'd appreciate putting that oh so smart mouth of yours to good use after reminding you of that promise you made to him." He stated and she grimaced. "I think not." She whispered back just as her twin came through the wooden gates, a few loyal men surrounding him that she recognized instantly.

Roose took a few steps forward, his facial expression neutral. "Nathaniel," he greeted in a dangerous voice, full of threats and warnings. Her brother nodded once. "You received my letter, I assume, for if you did, you will know why I cannot remain in the company of my brothers as they plot the murder of my twin." He knelt, in the freezing snow, before Roose. "I pledge my loyalty and that of my men to the Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell, and I ask that you accept it, my lord." He announced.

She watched with bated breath, the air fogging around her as she did so. Roose seemed to consider the pledge before he nodded, seemingly having decided he was telling the truth after all. "Then rise, for lords do not kneel. I have one condition, and that is that you do not interfere in the marriage of my son and you sister, the Lady Callidora Bolton, or the upbringing of their daughter, the Lady Esma Bolton, and that of their unborn child when it arrives in just under 6 moons." He stated.

Nathanial nodded once to show he understood, and his eyes moved to where she stood, a slight smile on her face that she had no control over whatsoever. He nodded once in her direction. "Sister." He greeted affectionately and she smiled a little wider, before his gaze cut to the man who was giving a glare that would of caused the Queen who was across the oceans dragons to flee. Nathanial sent him a curt, short nod too. "Lord Bolton," he greeted in a tight voice.

Ramsay gave no greeting back, and she glanced at him, only to find him walking off back towards the old stone building itself. She, getting the look from Roose to follow her fuming husband against her better judgement, nodded once, sent a smile of sorts towards Nathanial who nodded back, and she followed to path that Ramsay had taken in his furious leaving of the scene. She swallowed anxiously, seeing him storm into their room, the door slamming shut behind him. Just what would await her once she entered that room?

* * *

Nothing short of her duties, it would seem, for as soon as she closed to door behind her, she'd been forced onto the bed before she could utter a world, and he'd used her for exactly what he'd said he would out there in the courtyard, then forced her dress up and taken that which was legally his only. It didn't help that she was tender enough during pregnancy during there, not to mention during this entire time during both of the pregnancies that'd gotten to this point, and she found he was sadistically delighted when she couldn't withhold her own carnal reactions to what he was inflicting on her down there. She'd been mortified when he ignored her whispers that it was too much and a gushing if fluid from her nether regions had soaked the bed. He had taken delight in her embarrassment, and she had shook for minutes afterwards too.

It was dark out when a maid brought dinner for the both of them, and although too tired to even talk, she forced herself to eat the broth that was supplied as he hungrily swallowed his down beside her. The nurse that both were sure had spied on them none too long ago came to tell them that Esma was off into the land of dreams and wouldn't disturb them for the rest of the night. And then they were alone.

It came when she was laying in bed, the sheets beneath her having to if been changed, much to her horrified embarrassment. A sudden familiar ripple of the unborn child's first movement was felt, and he looked at her like an idiot when she suddenly grasped her still swelling stomach in an effort to feel that movement once more. It came again, and again, and again over the few hours, and he raised a brow once a ripple echoed across her abdomen. "Does it hurt?" He asked, gleaming ice blue eyes hoping for a more horrific answer.

Callidora shrugged. "Yes and no. When I was pregnant with Esma, and I was nearing towards the end, her feet would lodge themselves in my ribs, and that would hurt, but at the beginning, no, this doesn't hurt." She stated quietly. He folded his arms over his bare chest, about to comment, before a shadow of a person appeared under their actual bedroom door, not the adjoining room door. His eyes narrowed furiously and he gave a sound akin to a snarl. "I would wager that is your brother." He spat. She sat up, her stomach bulging as she did. "So you'll run him through because he's spying? I'm sure you can guess what he's listening for." She said, going to get up to blow out the candles across the room,one if the only sources of light in the room.

A cold hand closed around her wrist, and she looked at him. "I'm only going to extinguish those candles," she explained but he pulled her back, hands pulling at the ties of her nightgown that she was wearing, and with little effort, they came undone. "Leave them. You're going to be as loud as you can so he gets the message." He hissed, the tone of voice he held making her jump a little. Her eyes widened and cheeks flamed red at his words. "I can't do that with my brother of all people listening," she whispered before trying to pull back. "And you can't make me."

Ramsay reared up, a cruel smirk twisting his mouth as he chuckled a low, drawling chuckle that made the fine hairs in the back if her neck stand up. "Can't I?" He challenged, taking another glance at the door to make sure the shadow was still there, and it was. He grinned sadistically, hands travelling up her nightgown before he threw the long skirts back, uncovering the entirety of her nether region, and with a horror, she tried to push them back down as he moved so he was facing her mist private parts. "No," she attempted to plead, the rest of it dissolving into a moan that echoed loudly as he kissed where she'd never been kissed before. It was a sweet torture, and being sensitive already with pregnancy down in that area, she was trembling and moaning loudly in no time at all, as much in control as she was of the seasons. She felt him smirk against her heated flesh and she twisted her head to the side, and then to the other one as her fingers clenched the sheets beneath her, tightly enough to rip them to shreds. It was a different kind of torture, but for some strange reason, she found herself enjoying it. Maybe it was the fact that she was pregnant and was over sensitive all of the blasted time, but right now she didn't care for she could see that light at the end if the tunnel, the ultimate euphoria just within reach.

He seemed to realise it too, for he pulled back, wiping his mouth with a dangerous smirk. She looked at him in horror and choked, her reach to the edge getting bigger and bigger instead of smaller -Callidora choked on nothing. "What're you doing?" She whispered and he gestured to the door; the shadow of the eavesdropper was gone, and he showed her that malicious smirk again. "No need to continue," he shrugged, rolling onto his back and facing away from her, leaving her shaking with goodness knows what. She couldn't even think.

Gripping her hair tightly as she tried to wind down, finding that in itself impossible, she glared at the space in front of her. _Screw pride, screw promises and screw her dignity, not that there was much left!_ She pulled him back around to face her, and found him smirking smugly to himself. He went to push her underneath him but she swung a leg over, pushing him flat onto his back and sitting herself heavily on his pelvis, his appendage standing up tall and proud before her. "Screw promises and pride." She muttered and his satanic grin widened as he folded his arms behind his head. "Go on then," he goaded her, challenging her to see if she was going through with her choice, or just being all talk, as she heard people say.

Maintaining eye contact with the monster that was beneath her, watching and waiting, she reached for his pride, taking a moment to correctly position herself before sliding him into her in one straight move, hot white pleasure answering her instantly so much in fact that she took a moment as she trembled, his eyes having closed, but reopened and focussing on her with an almost animal ferocity. It wasn't something that she was used to. Hell, this was probably to only true proper time she was giving her consent to be fucked. What pride did she have left? None. What dignity did she have? None. The only reason for living was asleep in the adjoining room, and she was safer than safe. She refocused her eyes on his once more before leaning down, his eyes burning into hers. Was this love? Absolutely not. It was lust, a will to survive and not perish, but it was most definitely not _love_ , that was for God damn sure. Did she hate him? Yes. Did he make her life hell? Yes. See? Not love whatsoever.

Their mouths met in a heated battle, and one of his hands gripped her hair tight enough to hurt while the other grabbed at her behind, squeezing the rounded flesh there also tight enough to leave marks. Not willing to let him get a leg up, so to speak, this time, she sank her teeth hard into his bottom lip, the disgusting taste of copper filling her mouth as he hissed loudly. He pulled back, eyes aflame with fury at what she'd just done, and he touched the bite, red staining his fingers as she rose up to full height, a smirk of her own twisting her lips. He hurt her and she could damn well bite back, no pun intended.

Hot pleasure spiked through her abdomen as she gave a twist of her hips, Ramsay folding his arms back behind his head again after wiping his bottom lip. His ice blue eyes burned into her emerald green ones, refusing to break off the eye contact while she began to move, almost experimentally for she'd never fucked like this before, never done anything other than be forcibly brutalised, if she was honest.

Gaining confidence, she began to move up and then come crashing down, letting him almost slip out of her, only to come crashing down upon him less than a second later. She quivered, one of her hands tangling themselves in her red hair when the pleasure became to great one time, gripping the sunset coloured strands tight enough to cause pain. She saw a smug smirk appear on his face, his hands flexing as though he wanted nothing more than to pull her under him instead and take all the control back. She gave a rasping cry as a small explosion went off, wetness covering both her thighs and him.

A knock came to the door of their bedroom, his eyes leaving hers as he sat up, his length still buried inside of her, and when he asked, in an angered tone she noted while she tried to cope with him being still and so deep, what it was about, the response made her blood run cold. " _Yara Greyjoy invades, my lord. They were last seen heading for the kennels_ ," a man called and he released her immediately, making her shudder as he roughly pulled out of her. He tugged a pair of leather trousers on, fastening the belt as he looked back at where she sat on the bed, still trembling with the aftershocks, those thick fur pelts pulled up to protect her modesty should anyone come in. He eyed her for a moment before walking over to the bookshelf and pulling a small dagger from it. He walked over, and in the dim light, she was embarrassed to see numerous, yet not bloodied, scratch marks from her nails littering his bare chest. He handed the dagger to her. "Go to Esma and don't leave that room." He snapped before storming from the room.

Not wanting to know the consequences if she didn't obey, she pulled her nightgown on properly from where it'd been partially pulled off, and grabbing that dagger, she slipped into the adjoining room, the little girl in her club still sleeping, oblivious to the siege occurring around her while she dreamed of innocence. Callidora smiled slightly, trailing a finger down her cheek and gently closing her mouth that was in a gentle O shape. The raven haired infant grumbled, rubbing her first over her petite face.

No one, not an intruder or anyone else, came, but she could hear the sounds of battle, and then the sounds of those rabid dogs chasing someone through the forest that wasn't too far from where she stood. She waited, having placed the dagger down while she waited for the _bastard_ to return.

She didn't have to wait long, and when he called for her to come back out, she was indeed met with a sight. He was dripping in blood -it covered his arms and ran rivers down the lines of muscle on his chest. She placed the dagger down on the table, and he stopped washing it off of him, those ice blue eyes falling to her before he placed the cloth he'd been using down. "Your wretched brother saved me." He spat, facing her and she swallowed. He then smirked a cruel smirk. "And I remember we were interrupted?"

His bloodstained fingers grabbed her arms and pushed her back on the bed, this time not giving her the chance to mount him this time, for he didn't even get up into the bed, just unbuckled his breeches, shoved them down enough and then wrenching her legs apart and holding them there, he forced himself inside. Her head fell back at the penetration of her wet flesh, her teeth sinking into her bare arm in order to muffle her cries. He was having none of that though, and with an evil grin, those blood coated fingers slipped down and began to rub. She gasped loudly, moving to pull away as things became to great, but he grabbed her lower legs and pulled her back, this time following her up onto the bed before he moved back inside of her. She yelped as he resumed, this time leaning over her and coming down more forcibly than he was before. She couldn't stop the rough pants that echoed from her, seemingly out of breath from just a few minutes. He grinned, grabbing her red hair and pulling it back so her head was tilted back and her throat exposed.

Callidora too reached upwards, her smaller hands grabbing at her throat. She squeezed and he choked, mouth opening slightly as his own pleasure grew nearer and nearer. She let out a sudden, incoherent wail, shaking as though possessed beneath him as he relentlessly plunged into her. She felt him seize up above her and give a loud grunt like he always did, a wetness spreading inside. He fell off to the side and she looked at her hands, swallowing thickly at the bright, crimson red that covered them like his.


	39. Chapter 39

The bodies of both invaders and the Bolton men lost were disposed of before the morning broke, and she found herself vomiting repeatedly, her eyes burning each and every single time she did so. Maester Wolkan was summoned, and although she was miserable, she was told it was just another side effect of being with child, something she hadn't experienced as bad as she'd done while pregnant with Esma. It was wearying.

Nathanial had settled in well, and although she hadn't had much direct contact with him, when they passed each other, they still greeted each other with either a slight smile or a polite incline of the head. She didn't mind as much as she thought she would have done though, and she knew all too well she was being observed in those brief encounters by a certain someone with ice blue eyes and raven black hair. She had seen those eyes following her each and every single time they encountered each other.

Esma had started crawling none too long ago, and whenever the little girl was placed on the ground, she was off. There was no stopping her. Callidora was often chasing after her, stopping her from injuring and sometimes even killing herself. Her father would often watch as she tried to walk, the sheer determination in her emerald green eyes making Callidora stop too. She would stand for a moment or two, stop, and then fall back down to the cold, hard stone floor. It often resulted in tears, something Callidora ended up soothing away each and every time.

Her stomach was rounding more and more each day, and she knew she was approaching her almost seventh month in about two weeks. It was daunting how fast time seemed to be going past. Esma would be a year in a little under a week. She knew some celebration had been ordered by Roose to celebrate the fact that she was the first Bolton heir to be born in over two decades, regardless of her gender. She didn't eagerly anticipate them like she knew she should, because in her family, such celebrations were often met with murder and chaos. Just look how Robb's wedding had turned out. Celebrations weren't her favourite pastime.

Green eyes met her own as she laid upon the bed of pelts in the chambers she shared with the monster. Esma was curled into her side, dozing lightly, her thumb nestled in her mouth and ebony coloured lashes flush against her pale cheeks. She was beautiful, and would no doubt continue to be so as she grew up. It was something that she wasn't sure how to feel about. A rare beauty like her would be courted by many different men, none of them the most honourable of them all. Would her precious daughter be carted off to a marriage similar to her own? She hoped not whatsoever.

Ramsay didn't return to the room until well after the sun had gone down. Esma was still curled up beside her, soft and utterly quiet snores coming from her little self. She was curled opposite her, her fingers trailing through the wispy yet noticeably curly tendrils of black that covered her little head. She smoothed them over just as he entered, and she carefully picked her up off the bed, relieved when the little baby didn't utter a sound, her sleep too deep for a simple movement to have disturbed her at the current time. "I'll just put her to bed," she muttered, a hum all the response she got back in return, and a shuffle of fabrics telling her he was getting himself ready for bed.

Her nights had varied in the last few months since Nathanial had arrived, she noted to herself absentmindedly. Sometimes he was almost brutal, painting her thighs with red streaks so much to the fact that she'd been bedridden for a few days afterwards on one occasion, and this was generally after he'd had a particularly nasty encounter with either her brother or his father.

But there were times where he wasn't as harsh or domineering over her, but instead seemed to be almost careful, at least as her stomach swelled. He still demeaned and belittled her, was cruel and unspeakably violent on some occasions, but not as much when she was getting rounder and fatter as each week and month passed. The child within had began to move long ago, and it kept her awake night after night after night, so much to the fact she'd gone without sleep some nights.

Then came the news that Winterfell would soon be attacked by Stannis Baratheon, and she hid her fear well. It wasn't well hidden the fact that she despised the Lannister's and even the Baratheon's for what they'd done to her cousins and in return her family indirectly. He would arrive around the time she would be due to give birth as well, and she dreaded to think what would happen should the Bolton forces fall in some unlikely event. What would become of either she or Esma now? She dreaded to think what such brutes would have in stock for her daughter.

She laid Esma down in the cot bed she had, and then walked back through to the adjoining room after making sure the fire wouldn't die during the night. She pulled the door shut but not shutting it completely, just enough so if someone went in there, they couldn't see into the adjoining room. He was sitting up in bed, bare chested, and he was watching her. She blew a few of the candles around the door out, dimming the room somewhat, and then crawled into her side of the bed. She was exhausted, having been up since just before the crack of dawn. A soft yawn slipped from her parted lips, and although she expected him to seize her up in his cruel grasp and have his way with her regardless of just how tired she was, she was both relieved and suspicious when he did no such thing and instead left her to fall into a restless slumber.


	40. Chapter 40

It was hard to believe that the raven haired little girl was already a year old, and that in less than a week, she'd be eight months term just about. Time had flown by, and she wasn't sure she was overly pleased about that either. The little girl seemed even more determined to walk, and although she hadn't yet mastered the act of keeping her balance, she knew it'd just be a matter of time before she mastered it and started toddling about all over Winterfell.

The celebrations were well done, but not too big, for after all, in everyone else's eyes, Esma still was just a girl, or rather someone who wasn't as important as a male heir, should she in fact be carrying one. They'd all soon find out in less than nine weeks, something she was both dreading and strangely eagerly anticipating, for she too wanted to meet this new child, regardless of where it had come from, or how it'd been created, or even what gender it was.

Esma soon fell into another one of her deep sleeps after babbling most of the night away, a wooden horse that had been suspiciously left in her cot bed clutched in her pudgy hands. Although Callidora had her suspicions who'd given it to her after seeing wood shavings on the small table in the chambers she shared with the monster, she didn't say a single word about it, knowing better to and just somewhat relieved that her little girl wasn't as ignored and made to be non-existent as she thought she was.

Days passed in blurs, and snow started to fall in thicker, faster storms that blanketed The North in a thick whiteness once more as it did every year without fail. She grew larger, her stomach feeling fit to burst after each flurry of activity from within. It frightened her by how large she'd become. If she was this large, surely this meant the child within would be huge?! That was extremely unsettling. Esma had been a difficult enough birth, and she'd been on the smaller side. What would a birth with a much larger child be like? It'd no doubt be absolutely horrendous.

It was less than a month after becoming a year old did Esma start to walk. The first time she'd done so had been when a maid had been in to light a fire once more in both chambers, and Callidora had been sitting upon a rug that covered the dirty, cracked stone floor. She's toppled into the maid lighting the fires at the end, causing the woman to burn her hand. It was something the monster thought to be absolutely hilarious, saying something about how she wasn't even old enough to wield a blade whatsoever yet and she was already causing mischief and hurting people. That had made Callidora furious, but she withheld her retorts, and didn't miss the gleam in his eye or the punishing activities afterwards either, especially when he painted blotchy bruises on her inner thighs that didn't heal for a week.

It was around the time of three weeks before she was due to give birth when spies in The North brought back tales of sightings of Stannis and his armies. It was daunting, to know he was getting so close and she would more than likely be giving birth into a warzone. That terrified her more than the prospect of actually giving birth! But alas, she couldn't do anything but sit and wait for her doomsday to arrive once again.


	41. Chapter 41

Sure enough, the armies came in the midst of a snow storm, and were stranded somewhat until the lands around them thawed and then they could continue to make their way up onto Winterfell. She could see them in the distance when the snowfall was at its lightest, their billowing fires giving away their armies position as they fought to keep warm in the brutal, harsh and unforgiving cold of The North.

Meanwhile, she's had what a Maester called an impending sign of delivery, something that was utterly disgusting in her undergarments. She'd been confined to the bed from that moment therefore, not that she minded since it was just so difficult to even move these days. Her stomach was bulging, something she didn't enjoy whatsoever. She'd called for a bath recently, and her stomach had been bulging out of the water, small ripples coming from it as a foot appeared against her skin, and then a hand, sometimes the distinct impression of a head appearing, although that was rare compared to the amount of times feet and hands had appeared.

Ramsay didn't touch her once she'd been confined to the bed. She didn't care, most of her time being spent on either Esma or sleep or sleeping with Esma beside her considering he was always at council meetings, preparing for the war. She slept nights away in an endless cycle, snow flurries falling outside of the glassless windows, sometimes the shutters not even doing their job in keeping them from coming into the room. Esma would laugh and point to them before trying to escape her mothers grasp so she could toddle over there herself and investigate just what exactly they were. It brightened her day, to hear those little peals of laughter who owners innocence knew no bounds.

He came in late one night, small flurries of snow still caught in his hair. She'd seen the fires and knew what he and probably a group of his chosen men had done -more than likely snuck into the camp, burned their provisions and destroyed their weaponry. His bright eyed look and smug facial expressions told her all she needed to know, and she remained silent although secretly rejoicing inside that she and that green eyed, raven haired little girl would more than likely remain safe from Baratheon forces.

But it didn't stop there.

Pains began to sear up her midriff early one morning, and it bolted her awake, and the man next to her who was getting a few precious hours sleep before the two different armies went off into battle. He went to snap viciously at her, but when he saw where exactly she was holding and her agonised expression, a cruel smirk adorned his features. He sent someone to retrieve the Maester before informing a guard outside the door that he'd be in a room down the hall, finishing his much needed sleep. To be honest, she didn't much care. He wasn't the type to be supportive during anything unless it had to do with someone else's suffering and involved blood and murder in some way shape or form.

Esma's nanny came and retrieved her, saying she's remain at her side and attend to her needs while this child was delivered. It didn't help knowing what while she was birthing a none too small child, a war would no doubt be raging on outside of the very wall she resided in.

The pains grew worse and worse, and she wept through them all, numerous people in the room with her. An older woman mopped at her brow with a wet cloth as she heaved through each endlessly tiring agonising pain. It was torture. She couldn't breathe properly, and was rendered unconscious a few times, those in the room shaking her back to the land of the living.

Sounds of battle could be heard from outside -armour clinking as men ran through Winterfell, the sound of arrows being let loose, and the sound of men on both sides of the battle dying over and over again. It wasn't a pleasant sound to listen to, but she screamed out her agony, that at least drowning out the sounds every time she did so. Tears and other fluids streamed down her face as she cried with the torment, her eyes looking heavenwards for some sign of support and that she'd survive this birth at the very least.

Maester Wolkan was in and out of the room, as were some of the women used for childbirth. She was fussed upon, sometimes when she didn't want anyone near her at all. She just wanted to sleep, but they wouldn't let her for fear that the child might descend and then die because she wasn't awake to push it out.

The battle continued for hours by the sounds of it, and towards the end, a gushing of fluid from her nether regions signified that it was time. She was exhausted already, drenched in sweat and her nightgown, or at least the lower half of it, was drenched in blood amongst other things. The sheets of the bed would definitely need to be changed, probably the whole mattress altogether if she was frank. Blood was _everywhere_. There was no escaping it.

A woman had taken over wiping the sweat from her brow while another two held her legs back and apart so she could birth the child. There'd been none of this with Esma considering she'd given birth so fast, but it was mortifying having someone staring at your intimates while being held in such a vulnerable position.

She heaved, her eyes squeezed shut as she pushed with every single ounce of strength in her body. She was exhausted so it wasn't much, but it was a little less than needed according to some words of encouragement from the four women around her. A shrieking scream fell past her parted lips on the next ginormous push, an all too familiarly unpleasant burning sensation happening in a place it shouldn't be happening. She fell backwards, crying as the pain reached a crescendo. It was all too much.

"The head is out now," she heard one of the women around her mutter out, although she couldn't hear past the roaring in her eyes. Her eyes felt heavy, and there was an absolutely awful tugging away inside of her immediately, causing her to scream out in delirious pain before it all stopped somehow, causing her to realise they'd gently, well not so gently, pulled the child out from her. There was still a painful burning from down below.

It was complete silence for a moment before a wailing sound echoed around the room, and it was so loud those in the courtyard below could no doubt here it, for the bells began to toll, signifying the birth of a child as they'd done for Esma before they knew of her gender. The woman next to her smiled down at her. "A right healthy set of lungs that boy has my lady." She announced and Callidora found herself frozen, her eyes wide. "A boy?" She whispered and the woman nodded. "A little boy, my lady. He's a fine looking one at that too." She congratulated, wiping her brow still while one woman remained between her legs to finish delivering the afterbirth.

Relief flooded her system. Esma would be forever safe from being sent off, that was something she'd been promised if she'd given him a son. It was like the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders, and as this saviour of both his sister and mother was placed in her arms, she smiled breathlessly while guiding him to her breast so she could nourish him.

* * *

She was sitting up in bed when Ramsay returned from battle, both Esma and their nameless son beside her. He narrowed his eyes at her small smile, and Esma leaned into her, already and still fascinated by her newborn brother. He came to a stop in front of her. "Well?" He asked and she realised he'd not been told. She extended the little boy out to him. "Congratulations, you have the son you wanted." She stated and he raised a brow. "I have an heir?" He asked and she nodded, not at all surprised when he took the little boy straight from her arms and held him, checking for himself if she was in fact telling the truth. A smug smirk spread over his face when he saw she was, and she pulled Esma closer to her, dropping a kiss onto the raven curls that were becoming more pronounced as each day passed.

He looked at her before looking back at his son. "Does anyone else know?" She shook her head. "No. I begged the women and Maester Wolkan not to say anything. I don't think your father should know before you as I feared what he might do should he learn of a male heir before you did." She replied and he nodded, glancing at the green eyed girl who was cuddled up into her mother, those green eyes drooping. "Consider her safe from any future harm." He announced and she gaped at him. "Are you serious about that?" She demanded and he nodded, staring at both mother and daughter. "I have my son, and I swore no harm would come to her if I got him." He replied and she let out a relieved sigh, pulling Esma tighter to her and dropping another kiss on her ebony coloured locks.

She looked at him to make sure he wasn't lying, He wasn't, from the way he was looking at him son. She sank back into the sweat drenched pillows. "Does this mean I'm somewhat relieved from becoming pregnant again?" She asked with bated breath and he hummed. "We'll see about that one, as now I know you can carry a son, I should be expectant of more from you, as other lords would have said should you of been their wife and not _mine_." He drawled, those cold blue eyes flashing over to her.

Something she could deal with another day for she was too tired, she noted wearisomely as she watched him with the little boy who'd saved both his mother and his sister by just existing. She let out a breathy sigh. "He needs feeding," she mumbled and he glanced at her. She noted the small rivers of blood that painted his typical leather attire he wore when either hunting or in battle -it chilled her, wondering just how many had died out there, outside of those strong, stone walls of Winterfell.

"Did you win the battle?" She asked quietly as the still nameless infant was placed in her trembling arms, his little face reddening in protest as he wasn't given food quick enough. He gave a dangerous smirk, taking a seat beside her on the bed. Her cheeks flamed as she freed herself, the little boy latching on in an instant and suckling greedily with gusto. She gave a quiet wince at how powerful he was going about his eating, but nonetheless, she silenced soon afterwards, Esma nestled into her side, still sleeping.

"Stannis and his men are no more," he declared smugly, those ice cold blue eyes shining sadistically. "Maybe once you can pull yourself from this bed, I'll show you through one of these windows what happens when you come against House Bolton," he added and she hummed, stroking a finger down the red face of the little boy who was hungrily feeding from her breast. "Maybe..." She trailed off, and then she glanced at the man whose ice blue eyes were watching her every movement. "What shall he be named?" She asked and he rolled his eyes as though they were marbles. "Let me think of that in the morning once I've slept. I trust the bed has been cleaned from your..." He trailed off with a wicked smirk and she scowled. "Yes, its clean. Do you honestly think I'd lay in a filthy blood soaked bed?"

He grinned maliciously. "Keep talking to me like that and you'll lay in one once more." He warned, her rebellion deflating before it had even begun. He glanced at Esma who was unmoving in her sleep. "I assume you cannot move her?" He asked coolly and she shook her head, her eyes suddenly wide, but he smirked once again. "I thought we went over this, Callidora. I can pick up the girl without dropping her, especially now I have _my son_. As I said, she's safe from harm now I have him, but don't think for a moment I'll be teaching her how to be a _lady_." He sneered the word as though it were poison dripping from his tongue and she scoffed. "Yes, because I'm so ladylike in how I know how to shoot a bow, or how I've burned people alive, or even betrayed those closest to me before they did so back." She answered and he chuckled, reaching for the raven haired girl that was nestled into her. She swallowed back her fear as he held her neither affectionately or not, merely carrying her through to the adjoining room and placing her down in her bed before coming back through just as the little boy detached himself from her.

He was taken from her grasp and placed in a small wooden crib in the corner of their shared chambers, something she hadn't even noticed had been brought in. He climbed into the bed beside her, suddenly gripping her chin tight enough to force her eyes to meet him. "I will continue to take you, willingly or not, Callidora," he drawled. He smirked ever so slightly. "The only difference is that I'll not be as, _harsh_ with you like I would have done had this child turned out to be another girl and not a boy. My claim can never be challenged, and now, my dear, dear _wife_ , I do believe its time to eliminate those who could challenge my claim." He muttered the last part, but she knew exactly who he meant.

She hummed, turning her face away from him and staring up at the ceiling. "I know," she whispered, thinking of just whose family had slain her cousin and aunt mercilessly. She glanced at him again. "You promise that whatever you do, both Esma and our son will be safe from harm?"

Cold blue eyes seared into hers and he nodded. "I give you my word." She then nodded too. "Then do whatever you will, but keep them safe."


	42. Chapter 42

He was a gentle babe, she noted, as ice blue eyes, the exact replicas of his fathers, stared lazily up at her through half closed lids and he suckled from her breast. A hand lazily palmed her exposed skin, and she rubbed a thumb gently along the softer than silk skin. It was strange. She had sworn to never, ever give him a son, an heir to the North, and yet, here she was, loving the little boy regardless, even though he was an exact double of his father, right down to the pale blue eyes and raven black hair that she could see from the faint dusting of it had a slight curl to it.

She also knew he was in danger. Roose wouldn't let him live, no, not when rumours were going around that he had eventually gotten the Frey bitch pregnant. That would challenge his other sons claim to the North, and she knew all too well that it wouldn't be something that Ramsay would leave to go unchecked. She knew all too well that he was plotting something, and she was just glad that he had promised the safety of both their still unnamed son and Esma.

The little girl was currently dozing beside her, having just tired herself out by wobbling all over the room and shrieking with laughter as the maid played with her, under the ever so watchful eye of her mother, of course. She had stumbled and had been lifted onto the bed, soon collapsing into a tired slumber and burrowing herself into her mothers side.

Snow could be seen outside. It had been two days since the battle, and she had been horrified and nauseated when she saw the numerous black lines that were the corpses of both fallen soldiers on both sides. Bolton troops that'd been slain had been given somewhat of a burial, but the forces of Stannis were left out there to rot in the cold snow.

The little boy in her arms gripped the skin of her chest, and she glanced down at him, pleased to find his eyes drooping somewhat. Good. She needed a bath, and she couldn't well do that with a child attached to her breast. The maid was in the adjoining room, so she called for her, the woman scurrying back through and helping her up, supporting her as she climbed out of bed for the second time in the last two days.

He was laid to sleep in the small crib that resided in the corner of the room, the closeness of it because it was easier for accessibility and that he was never out of her, well, both of their sights. Ramsay knew how vulnerable his prized heir was, and just how much danger he was in even though he was just a two day old infant. It was concerning, at least for her she knew it was, but she had a suspicion that it was for the monster who slept beside her night after night too.

The bath was drawn, and she stepped into the boiling water, relieved to see all the sweat, grime and blood cleansed from her skin. It was a relief to see it all go. She sighed softly, looking at Esma. It was an almost soothing relief to know she wouldn't ever be subjected to the misfortune of most girls that were unwanted by their powerful fathers when they existed instead of a son. Her father had loved her regardless, but it didn't mean other powerful men of neighbouring houses shared his view on how daughters were just as important as sons were, that they could be used to form alliances and whatnot between powerful houses.

Ramsay came back just as she was stepping from the bath, a thick pelt wrapped around her. He glanced over at the small crib as she moved towards where a dress had been lain out for her. It was the high necked collared green one she loved, the soft fabric warm against the bitter cold winters. She as helped into it while he walked over and stared down at the little boy, who while still nameless, was the talk of the North.

He turned to her when she was dressed, a slow smirk playing at his lips. He cast a narrowed look at the maids who were still in the room. "Out," he ordered, and all of them were sent scurrying while she examined the threads in her outfit which suddenly seemed interesting. She sighed. "Is it absolutely necessary to give them heart attacks? If you do that, we'll have no one working for House Bolton anymore." She stated and his ice blue eyes snapped to her. "It reminds them that they're disposable." He answered back and she rolled her eyes, glancing back at Esma. The little girl was still asleep -good.

She then looked back at him. "What exactly are you planning?" She asked, and he smirked slyly. "None of your business. What you don't know can't hurt you, and then you can't be held to something you knew nothing about." He replied and she sighed, glancing at the nameless son in his bed. "And what of your heir? Is he to remain nameless, or will he have a name?"

A malicious grin tore across his face. "I'm close, but although, actually, let me put something to you. I'm thinking of continuing the tradition, aside from Domeric who he shall most definitely not be named after, of giving him a name beginning with the letter R."

A hum echoed from her lips as she thought for a moment. "What of _Ronan_ , or if you were going to be vain, _Ramses_?" She asked and he smirked, taking a seat beside her on the bed lined with fur pelts. He chuckled, the sound still causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. "I suppose both are suggestive ideas, but I'll see."

They were silent for a moment before she spoke, her eyes fixated on the sleeping form of the little boy in his wooden crib. "I fear for his safety and well-being every single waking moment of the days that've passed since his birth. I stay awake at night, afraid someone will come in and slaughter him while I sleep, and while you sleep next to me. What would stop them from also going after Esma to make sure you have no viable heirs, regardless of the gender or not. They'll still perceive her to be a threat, regardless of her gender as a female, and you know that."

He nodded after a moment before gripping her chin hard enough to leave bruises, turning her face back towards his own. She withheld her grimace of pain, knowing it'd only entice more forceful violence from him. "Then I will post someone in front of this room at all times to make sure no one, not even my _father_ gets in here where they sleep and live, and should they survive if an intruder somehow manages to get past here, I will make them wish they had been killed by that intruder because I will peel the flesh from their bones as they beg for mercy, and only when they are close to death, will I keep the gift of death so close yet so far from them." He snarled and she swallowed, nodding shakily.

"You and I both know what will happen if those rumours are true and she gives birth to a son, regardless of whether you've been legitimised are not. He'll place that son before you..." She trailed off on seeing the smirk. "What?" She asked warily, already suspecting the absolute worse.

He smiled a shark smile, the kind where she knew he wasn't to be trusted. "But my _dear wife_ ," he drawled. "Who said she'd be giving birth?"


	43. Chapter 43

Those rumours were confirmed the next night after next when Ramsay, including herself after just having given birth four days prior, were summoned to dinner. Ramsay didn't take the news well, as she'd expected. He was furious, spitting curse after curse when they were in the sanctuary of their chambers. It was dreadful to listen to, especially considering Esma was starting to pick up on words, and those were not what Callidora envisioned the little girls first words to be.

She rubbed her fingers against her temples, and he stabbed at the flames with a metal poker angrily. "She will not have that child," he spat and she looked at him. "I wish her and her wretched house just as much pain as they caused me over the slaughter of my cousins and aunt." She muttered and he smirked. "Ah yes, I almost forgot about that." He mocked and she winced slightly, not wanting to be reminded of the moment when she'd received the horrific news about how she'd not just lost her living, now deceased cousins and aunt, but also an unborn relative who hadn't even had a chance to experience the world before it was stolen out from under their feet.

He stalked forward, gripping her chin and lifting it so their eyes met. "I think I'm going to enjoy this." He drawled and she frowned. "Enjoy what? The slaughter of your father and his fat wife? I'm not going to complain. They both had involvement in the Red Wedding, despite the fact it was her House, not her directly, but I don't care. That unborn child threatens the safety of the two young children sleeping within reaching distance of us both." She clipped and he sniggered. "You really have a talent for stating the obvious, Callidora, but alas, I digress. Perhaps I should finish flaying the prisoner downstairs in the dungeons to relieve some of this anger considering I cannot take it out on you for another fortnight at the very least." He warned.

Her green eyes shone. "Perhaps you should. I'd hate to be unable to feed your son because I can't move as there's bruises covering my entire body." She whispered and he nodded with a sly humming noise. "Perhaps that would be best, hm?"

He made for the door, but paused, glancing at the little boy who slept in the crib that was positioned next to the fireplace to keep him warm, but not close enough so he'd suffocate in the heat. He pointed to him. "I've decided upon a name." He began, turning his face towards her. She hummed, waiting for his answer.

He nodded once before grasping the doorknob. "He's to be called Ramses, after his father, and he will not be usurped by some fat bitches little whelp and my father." He snarled before storming from the room, leaving her thoroughly shaken and worried for what would happen next.


	44. Chapter 44

She was alone for the next night, much to her relief. She didn't wish to be on the receiving end of his anger, that was for damn sure. She cradled the little boy, now named _Ramses_ , to her chest, supressing her grimace as he latched onto her strongly. It was almost a habit. He was a greedy little thing too, wanting to be fed almost every hour of every day. But she didn't mind, she had concluded eventually. Esma had been the same.

Then came the invitation to dinner again with her _father in-law_ later that afternoon, and she was forced to drag herself from the soft bed, her eyes watering as pain flared up her spine. It was crippling, but she willed the tears away and pulled herself from the bed. It was probably just cramp in her back, nothing some walking about and gentle stretching couldn't mend. Sure enough, it went away in an instant, making her wonder if it had even been there to begin with.

She slipped her arms under the little boy whose father was his namesake in every sense of way, and she smiled slightly as his little mouth opened and he began rooting around for food once more. He was a little clammy, she noted. Esma had been too at his age of merely a fortnight old, something she had merely placed down to conflicting cold and warmth of the room. She too became like that, and it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Ramses was fed briskly, and then she was helped into her gown, the soft fur soothing against her own clammy skin. She bid farewell to both Esma and Ramses, the little girl babbling away with the cheeky smile she was starting to be known for. She was given a farewell kiss and then Callidora was escorted to dinner, noticing that Ramsay was true to his word, this time, for a tall man in armour was standing guard at the door.

Dinner was silent, and awkward. The Frey woman tried to engage her in a conversation, but Callidora couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She could feel it deep down, like an instinct, almost. She glanced at the raven haired man at her side, finding him somewhat distracted. She gave him a nudge under the table and his cold blue eyes snapped to hers. Swallowing, she leaned towards him, her lips resting at his ear. " _Something isn't right_ ," she whispered softly so no one else but he could hear her.

He frowned, and was about to respond back, but he was interrupted by a guard she'd never seen before rushing into the room, his helmet off, dark eyes wild with fear and wrought with despair. "My lords," he gasped out, and Callidora could feel that feeling returning, her eyes wide as she saw the mans eyes focus on her specifically, and then to the man sitting at her right hand side.

She knew immediately, and pushed her chair back with a deafening scrape, picking up her skirts and rushing from the dining hall, trying desperately to assure herself that everything would be fine, that both of those innocent little beings were fine.

All was not fine.

Maester Wolkan was already there when she barrelled through the door, her eyes wide and tearful. She didn't even have to look. She could hear the frightened wailing of Esma in the next room, although it sounded weak and distressed, as though something had happened to her, or that she'd seen something her less than a year and a half old self should never have ever witnessed.

She took a shaky step into the room, all eyes falling to her. The timid Maester spun around to face her, his face falling into an apologetic and sympathetic expression. She could hear others approaching quickly from the other end of the corridor outside the room door. She shook her head as she walked forward slowly, almost as though she was unsure of her own feet. There was a white sheet draped over the crib that held something so precious, and she knew immediately what that meant after seeing it happening in numerous other powerful Houses.

Her legs gave way beneath her, someone catching her before she let out a heart-wrenching scream that she was sure everyone in Winterfell could hear. It ripped from her mouth before she could stop it, others coming into the room. She couldn't contain her weeping, and she heard the man whom she shared these chambers with demand answers, his voice hardly containing his fury as he screamed at everyone for answers as to how this could of been allowed to happen.

How could it have happened? There had been a guard here. How had this intruder gotten past the giant of a guard and slain that which had ultimately saved her life? He wasn't even a month old. How could someone kill a babe that meant no harm to itself and those around them?

Tears, thick and heavy on her cheeks, streamed down her reddening face. Someone helped her up and into a chair beside the fireplace, positioning her so she didn't have to look at the crib covered by that white sheet again. She could see Roose and his _fat bitch_ in the doorway of the room, and she knew immediately. She knew he'd done something from the way he held himself. That was not the demeanour of a man who'd suffered a tremendous loss to his household and family. She could tell by the almost silent demeanour and how he wouldn't look at anyone properly, not even his own son.

It was a man who had something to hide, a look she knew all too well, and had learned to over the last almost three years.

She clenched her fists at her side, barely concealing her anger as she bristled furiously with it. She pulled herself up, pushing everyone away who rushed to help her, and she stormed into the next room, finding Esma being attended to by another Maester who had recently joined Wolkan in serving House Bolton, she remembered she'd been told. The little girl began to cry as she saw Callidora, reaching for her.

The redhead scooped her up in an instant, her anger growing when she saw a slight bluish tinge to the little girls lips as she kissed her pudgy cheek. So someone had attempted to take her life as well as the little boy who had stood no chance. She let her tears soak the raven curls adorning her head, a pain filling her system like no other.

Her parents had lost a child before both she and Nathanial, and had often talked about how much of a blessing the arrival of the two of them had given them both, before her mother died, and her father said it had made it much easier to cope with his own grief whenever he felt as though he couldn't carry on in his position.

She turned as a slight shadow fell into the room, seeing Ramsay standing there. He moved towards them, tears still leaking down her cheeks, and his blue eyes became even more enraged as he saw the bluish tinge to the raven haired girls lips, and the red marks that were on her cheeks that looked as though someone had taken their hand and held it over both her nose and mouth and tried to suffocate her.

He was livid, angrier than she'd ever seen him before, and he leant towards her ear. " _Take Esma to your old chambers_ ," he hissed. and she nodded jerkily after a moment. He wasn't done though. " _You aren't to move from them until I come to get you. Expect blood to paint walls tonight as I'm going to confer with my_ father," he spat the name and she swallowed thickly. He moved back to look at her and she nodded as she still wept, her eyes still furiously leaking tears. "I will," she whispered. "Don't get yourself killed though." She added on in a deathly quiet voice and he nodded too, stalking from the room after in the direction his father and his fat bitch Frey wife had vanished off to.

* * *

It was chaotic. She could hear bells tolling, and she knew he'd done what he'd been promising to do for months. She could also hear soldiers guarding her doors to make sure an attempt on her life didn't occur, and that they were being kept safe behind the strong wooden doors that belonged to her old chambers which she hadn't stepped foot in for over two years.

She cradled Esma to her chest, the little girl haven fallen into a restless sleep after an hours worth of gentle coaxing. Callidora couldn't stop crying herself. It was a gut wrenching pain that she hadn't even felt the first time she had fallen pregnant and lost it. This was ten times worse than that, no, a _thousand times_ worse. It tore at her insides and made her lose her breath more times than she could count on her hands and feet. She bottled it up, just waiting for it to be released and for it to explode in front of everyone.

He came to get them an hour after the bells started tolling. She placed Esma down on the bed, surprising herself when she wrapped her arms around him, her tears leaking free despite the fact she knew he hated when women cried, unless of course, he was causing unspeakable pain upon them. He gripped her back with a painful tightness, and it was then that she noticed the blood on his leather attire. She pulled back, seeing a slash in the stiff leather. Pressing her fingers against it, she inhaled sharply when they came back stained with crimson.

He glanced down at where she was pressing and scoffed. "Only a little cut, Callidora, leave it be." He snapped, and she swallowed, retracting her fingers. "Is he dead? Are they both?" She inquired as he moved towards the unlit fireplace, lighting it silently with his back to her. She swallowed her tears. "Please tell me they are."

Blue eyes glanced back at her and he nodded. "They're dead, something I suspect the Frey's will take up arms for against us, but Lord Karstark, Umber and Harald all agreed to pledge their allegiance to me as Warden of the North, and that its time for new blood in the North."

She wiped away her tears, steeling herself before she spoke once again. "What of Ramses?" She whispered, her eyes and throat burning with the grief she willed down. He turned to look properly at her, a slight shadow of grief evident on his face too. "He'll be buried with honours." He replied and she nodded jerkily, her eyes falling to her clasped hands. "Why would the murder a baby who did them no wrong?" She cried, her grief swallowing her whole to the extent she struggled to keep standing.

He stormed forward. "Because he was a threat to them, and now that they're gone, I'm going to get a dozen more sons from you," he snarled, his anger showing in his eyes. She swallowed her response, knowing it would only anger him more. She nodded shakily. "And I'll give you them," she whispered, shaking her head. "But no more of them will die, I beg of you. I cannot deal with another death of something so precious and loved, not anymore." She pleaded and he nodded, eyes wild as he glanced at the little girl who was asleep. "You have my word."

* * *

 **Author's note: So, I'm well aware people will probably hate me for doing that, but I've had this planned for over a year, and you'll soon see why I had to do that.**


	45. Wicked Games Note

Author Note: Apologies to those who thought this was an update, but I feel the need to vent a little bit.

For all those who're crying Stockholm Syndrome, no. I think if you read through my earlier chapters, you'll see that that's just not the case whatsoever. Here we go:

Whatever happens to Ramsay will eventually happen to both Callidora and Esma, and had already happened to Ramses, who although that move will seem harsh and I totally agree on that, but you'll see eventually why I did that, and I've been planning this for a long while, so bear with me on that, please?

Ramsay surviving keeps the both of them alive. He dies, Callidora knows fine well that Esma and herself will soon follow him as whatever or whoever has killed him is likely to exterminate the rest of House Bolton to ensure that there isn't any backlash per say.

This is not, I repeat, not Stockholm, and I don't intend for it to go that way. You'll see Callidora is far from accepting of her circumstances, despite the fact she tells him this. You'll also she that she doesn't want to do what she's promised him in the last chapter, despite the fact she told him so.

So apologies for the rant, which I'll add is now over, but in light of recent reviews, I just felt the need to address that to avoid further confusion about Wicked Games, which will, I promise, be updated soon.

Thank you.


End file.
